9M— p. L, 



R. 1080-19. 



TO T 




I, D. C. 



Giass_2S-aaf4 



Book 



n ^Xi^'^ ^^^"^ 



Geo. L. Paine, D. D. S. 

XBNIA, OHIO. 



c. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES ; 



RELATED BY HIMSELF. 



A STOEY OF AIEEICAN LIFE. 



BY 

BAYARD TAYLOR. 



NEW YORK: 
G. P. PUTNAM-, KURD AND HOUGHTON. 

1864. 

The English cqpijn(/hl and foreign translation reserved by the Author. 



^^\ 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 

George P. Putnam, 

In the Clerk's OfBce of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. 

Also entered at Stationer's Hall, London. 



RIVERSIDE, Cambridge: 

STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BT 
H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 



TO JAMES LORIMER GRAHAM, Jr., Esq., 

New York. 

My dear Graham, — I owe it to your kindness that 
the mechanical labor of putting this book into words has 
been so greatly reduced as almost to become a pleasure. 
Hence you were much in my thoughts while I wrote, and I 
do not ask your permission to associate your name with the 
completed work. 

I have found, from experience, that whatever the pre- 
liminary explanations an author may choose to give, they 
are practically useless. Those persons who insist — against 
my own express declaration — that " Hannah Thurston " 
was intended as a picture of the " Reformers " of this 
country, aaiII be sure to make the discovery that this book 
represents the literary guild. Those, also, who imagine 
that they recognized the author in INIaxwell Woodbury, vdW 
not fail to recognize him in John Godfrey, although there 
is no resemblance between the two characters. Finally, 
those sensitive readers who protest against any represen- 
tation of "American Life," which is not an unmitigated 
glorification of the same, will repeat their dissatisfaction, 
and insist that a single work should contain every feature 
of that complex national being, which a thousand volumes 
could not exhaust. 



iv DEDICATION. 

I will only say (to you, who will believe me) of this 
book, that, like its predecessor, it is the result of observa- 
tion. Not what ought to be, or might be, is the proper 
province of fiction, but what is. And so, throwing upon 
John Godfrey's head all the consequences of this declara- 
tion, I send him forth to try new fortunes. 

Yours always, 

Bayard Taylor. 
Cedarcroft, September, 1864:, 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. PAQB 

IN WHICH, AFTER THE VISIT OF NEIGHBOR NILES, MY CHILD- 
HOOD SUDDEXLY TERMIXATES 1 

CHAPTER II. 

DESCRIBING MY INTRODUCTION ^NTO DR. DYMONd's BOARD- 
ING-SCHOOL 16 

CHAPTER III. 

IN WHICH I BEGIN TO LOOK FORWARD 31 

CHAPTER IV. 

CONTAINING FEATS IN THE CELLAR AND CONVERSATIONS 

UPON THE ROOF 43 

CHAPTER V. 

WHICH BRINGS A STERNER CHANGE IN MY FORTUNES . . 58 

CHAPTER VI. 

IN WHICH I DISCOVER A NEW RELATIVE .... 75 

CHAPTER VII. 

IN WHICH UNCLE AND AUNT WOOLLEY TAKE CHARGE OF ME 86 

CHAPTER VIII. 

DESCRIBING CERTAIN INCIDENTS OF MY LIFE IN READING 99 

CHAPTER IX. 

IN WHICH I OUGHT TO BE A SHEEP, BUT PROVE TO BE A 

GOAT • 110 



vi CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER X. 

CONCERNING MT ESTABLISHMENT IN UPPER SAMARIA . . 126 

CHAPTER XI. 

CONTAINING BRATTON'S PARTY AND THE EPISODE OF THE 

LIME-KILN 138 

CHAPTER XII. 

IN WHICH LOVE AND LITERATURE STIMULATE EACH OTHER 157 

CHAPTER XIII. 

IN WHICH I DECLARE, DECIDE, AND VENTURE .... 167 

CHAPTER XIV. 

IN WHICH I GO TO MARKET, BUT CANNOT SELL MT WARES 179 

CHAPTER XV. 

CONCERNING MT ENTRANCE INTO MRS. VERy's BOARDING- 
HOUSE, AND VARIOUS OTHER MATTERS 192 

CHAPTER XVI. 

DESCRIBING MR. WINCH's RECONCILIATION BALL, AND ITS 

TWO FORTUNATE CONSEQUENCES . .... 202 

CHAPTER XVII. 

WHICH " CONDENSES THE MISCELLANEOUS " OF A TEAR . . 216 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

IN WHICH I AGAIN BEHOLD AMANDA 226 

CHAPTER XIX. 

RELATING HOW I CAME INTO POSSESSION OF MT INHERITANCE 242 

CHAPTER XX. 

IN WHICH I DINE WITH MR. CLARENDON AND MAKE THE AC- 
QUAINTANCE OF MR. BRANDAGEE 254 

CHAPTER XXI. 

IN WHICH I ATTEND MRS. TORKTOn'S RECEPTION . . . 269 

CHAPTER XXII. 

IN WHICH I ENTER GENTEEL SOCIETT AND MEET MT RELA- 
TIVES 284 



CONTENTS. vu 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

DESCRIBING MY INTERVIEW WITH MARY MALONEY . • . 297 

CHAPTER XXIY. 

A DINXER-PARTY AT DELMONICO'S 306 

CHAPTER XXV. 

CONTAINING, AMONG OTHER THINGS, MY VISIT TO THE ICH- 
NEUMON 319 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

IN WHICH I TALK WITH TWO GIRLS AT A VERY SOCIABLE 

TARTY 332 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

WHICH SHOWS THAT THERE WAS SOMETHING MORE . . 343 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

WHICH GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF A FIRE, AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT 355 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

IN WHICH PENROSE FLINGS DOWN THE GLOVE AND I PICK 

IT UP ........... 369 

CHAPTER XXX. 

WHICH BRINGS A THUNDERBOLT 381 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

IT WHICH I BEGIN TO GO DOWNWARDS ..... 393 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

CONCERNING MARY MALONEy's TROUBLE, AND \rHAT I DID TO 



REMOVE IT 



405 



CHAPTER XXXIII. , 

WHICH SHOWS WHAT I BECAME 417 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

IN WHICH I HEAR FOOTSTEPS 430 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

IN WHICH I HEED GOOD ADVICE, MAKE A DISCOVERY, AND 

RETURN TO MRS. VERY 443 



viii CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

WHICH BRINGS THE SYMPHONY TO AN END, BUT LEAVES ME 

WITH A HOPE . . . . • ..... 454: 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

WHICH BRINGS MY FORTUNE AT LAST 465 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

OF WHICH JANE BERRY IS THE HEROINE .... 479 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

IN WHICH I RECEIVE AN UNEXPECTED LETTER FROM UNCLE 

WOOLLEY ^^1 



CONCLUSION 



CHAPTER XL. 

604 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES; 

RELATED BY HBISELF. 



CHAPTER I. 

IN WHICH, AFTER THE VISIT OF NEIGHBOR NILES, MT 
CHILDHOOD SUDDENLY TERMINATES. 

I WAS sitting at the front window, buried, chin-deep, in 
the perusal of " Sandford and Merton," when I heard the 
latch of the gate click. Looking up, I saw that it was only 
Neighbor Niles, coming, as usual, in her sun-bonnet, with 
her bare arms wrapped in her apron, for a chat with 
mother. I therefore resumed my reading, for Neighbor 
Niles always burst into the house without knocking, and 
mother was sure to know who it was by the manner in 
which the door opened. I had gotten as far into the book 
as the building of the Robinson-Crusoe hut, and one half 
of my mind speculated, as I read, whether a similar hut 
might not be constructed in our garden, in the corner 
between the snowball-bush and Muley's stable. Bob Sim- 
mons would help me, I was sure ; only it was scarcely pos- 
sible to finish it before winter, and then we could n't live 
in it ^v^thout a fireplace and a chimney. 

Mother was hard at work, making me a new jacket of 
gray satinet, lined with black chintz. My reading was in- 
terrupted by the necessity of jumping up every ten minutes, 
jerking off my old coat and trying on the new one, — 
sometimes the body without the sleeves, sometmies one of 
1 



2 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

the sleeves alone. Somehow it would n't fit at the shoul- 
ders, and the front halves, instead of lying smoothly upon 
my breast as they should have done, continually turned and 
flew back against my arms, as if I had been running at full 
speed. A tailor would have done the work better, it can't 
be denied, but mother could not afford that. " You can 
keep it buttoned, Johnny dear," she would say, " and then 
I think it '11 look very nice." 

Presently the door burst open, and there was Neighbor 
Niles, voice and figure all at once, loud, hearty, and bus- 
tling. Always hurried to " within an inch of her life," 
always working " like six yoke of oxen," (as she was ac- 
customed to say,) she inveterately gossiped in the midst 
of her labor, and jumped up in sudden spirts of work when 
she might have rested. We knew her well and liked her. 
I believe, indeed, she was generally liked in the neighbor- 
hood ; but when some of the farmers, deceived by her own 
chatter, spoke of her as " a smart, doing woman," their 
wives would remark, with a slight toss of the head, " Them 
that talks the most does n't always do the most." 

On this occasion, her voice entered the room, as nearly as 
I can recollect, in the following style : — 

" Good mornin', Neighbor Godfrey ! "Well, Johnny, 
how 's he ? Still a-readin' ? He '11 be gittin' too much in 
that head o' his'n. Jist put my bakin' into th' oven, — six 
punkin-pies, ten dried-apple, and eight loaves o' bread, 
besides a pan o' rusk. If I had nothin' else to do but 
bake, 't would be enough for one woman : things goes in 
our house. Got the jacket most done ? Might ha' saved 
a little stuff if you 'd ha' cut that left arm more eater- 
cornered, — 't would ha' been full long, I guess, and there 
a'n't no nap, o' no account, on satinet. Jane Koffmann, 
she was over at Readin' last week, and got some for her 
boys, a fippenny-bit a yard cheaper 'n this. Don't know, 
though, as it '11 wear so well. Laws ! are you sewin' with 
silk instead o' patent thread ? " 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 8 

, " I find it saves me work," said my mother, as Neighbor 
Niles popped into the nearest chair, drew her liands from 
under her apron, leaned over, and picked up a spool from 
the lap-board. " Patent thread soon wears out at the 
elbows and shoulders, and then there are rips, you know. 
Besides, the color don't hold, and the seams soon look 
shabby." 

I resumed my reading, while our visitor exhausted the 
small budget of gossip which had accumulated since her 
last visit, two days before. Her words fell upon my ears 
mechanically, but failed to make any impression upon my 
mind, which was wholly fixed upon the book. After a while, 
however, my mother called to me, — 

" Johnny, I think there 's some clearing up to do in the 
garden." 

I knew what that meant. Mother wished to have some 
talk with Neighbor Niles, which I was not to hear. Many 
a time had I been sent into the garden, on the pretence of 
" clearing up things," when I knew, and mother also knew, 
that the beds were weeded, the alleys clean scraped, the 
rubbish gathered together and thrown into the little stable- 
yard, and all other work done which a strong inventive 
faculty could suggest. It was a delicate way of getting me 
out of the room. 

I laid down my book with a sigh, but brightened up as 
the idea occurred to me that I might now, at once, select 
the site of my possible Crusoe hut, and take an inventory 
of the material available for its construction. As I paused 
on the oblong strip of turf, spread like a rug before the 
garden -door, and glanced in at the back-window, I saw that 
mother had already dropped her sewing, and that she and 
Neighbor Niles had put their heads together, in a strictly 
literal sense, for a private consultation. 

The garden was a long, narrow plot of ground, running 
back to the stable of our cow, and the adjoining yard, which 
she was obli^^ed to share with two well-grown and voracious 



4 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

pigs. I walked along the main alley, peering into the be^s 
right and left for something to " clear up," in order to 
satisfy my conscience before commencing my castle- or 
rather hut-building ; but I found nothing more serious than 
three dry stalks of seed-radishes, which I pulled up and 
flung over the fence. Then I walked straight to the snow- 
ball-bush. I remember pacing off the length and breadth 
of the snug, grassy corner behind it, and discovering, to my 
grief, that, although there was room for a hut big enough 
for Bob and myself to sit in, it would be impossible to walk 
about, — much less swing a cat by the tail. In fact, we 
should have to take as model another small edifice, which, 
on the other side of the bush, already disturbed the need- 
ful solitude. Moreover, not a hand's-breadth of board 
or a stick of loose timber was to be found. " If I were 
only in Charley Rand's place ! " I thought. His father had 
a piece of woodland in which you might lose your way 
for as much as a quarter of an hour at a time, with enough 
of dead boughs and refuse bark to build a whole encamp- 
ment of huts. Charley, perhaps, might be willing to join 
in the sport ; but he was not a favorite playfellow of mine, 
and would be certain to claim the hut as his exclusive prop- 
erty, after we other fellows had helped him to build it. 
He was that sort of a boy. Then my fancy wandered 
away to the real Crusoe on his island, and I repeated to 
myself Cowper's " Verses, supposed to be written by Alex- 
ander Selkirk." Somehow, the lines gave an unexpected 
turn to my thoughts. Where would be the great fun of 
playing Crusoe, or even his imitators, Sandford and Mer- 
ton, in a back-garden, where a fellow's mother might call 
him away at any moment ? I should not be out of human- 
ity's reach, nor cease to hear the sweet music of speech ; 
the beasts that roam over the plain (especially McAllister's 
bull, in the next field) would not behold my form with in- 
difference, nor would they suddenly become shockingly 
tame. It would all be a make-believe, from beginning to 



JOHN GODFKEY'S FORTUNES. 5 

end, requiring even greater efforts of imagination than I 
had perpetrated a few years earlier, in playing at the vil- 
lage school, — 

" Here come three lords, all out of Spain, 
A-courting of your daughter Jane," 

or in creating real terror by flmcying a bear crouching be- 
hind the briers in the fence-corner. 

A Httle ashamed of myself, I walked to the garden-paling, 
and looked over it, and across the rolling fields, to some 
low, hazy hills in the distance. I belong to that small 
class of men whose natures are not developed by a steady, 
gradual process of growth, but advance by sudden and 
seemingly arbitrary bounds, divided by intervals during 
which their faculties remain almost stationary. I had now 
reached one of those periods of growth, — the first, indeed, 
which clearly presented itself to my own consciousness. 
I had passed my sixteenth birthday, and the physical 
change which was imminent began to touch and give color 
to the operations of my mind. My vision did not pause at 
the farthest hill, but went on, eagerly, into the unknown 
landscape beyond. I had previously talked of the life that 
lay before me as I had talked of Sinbad and Gulliver, 
Eobert Bruce and William Tell: all at once I became 
conscious that it was an earnest business. 

Wliat must I do ? What should I become ? The few 
occupations which found a place in our little village re- 
pelled me. My frame was slight, and I felt that, even if I 
liked it, I could never swing the blacksmith's hammer, or 
rip boards like Dick Brown, the carpenter. Moreover, I 
had an instinctive dislike to all kinds of manual labor, 
except the hght gardening tasks in which I assisted my 
mother. Sometimes, in the harvest-season, I had earned a 
little pocket-money on the neighboring farms. It was 
pleasant enough to toss hay into cocks on the fragrant 
meadows, but I did n't like the smother of packing it in 



6 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

the steaming mows, and my fingers became painfully sore 
from binding sheaves. My ambition — at this time but a 
vague, formless desire — was to be a scholar, a man of 
learning. How this was to be attained, or what lay beyond 
it, I could not clearly see. I knew, without being able to 
explain why, that the Cross-Keys (as our village was 
called, from its tavern-sign) was no place for me. But, up 
to the afternoon I am describing, I had never given the 
subject a serious thought. 

Many a boy of ten knows far more of the world than I 
then did. I doubt if any shepherd on the high Norwegian 
fjelds lives in greater seclusion than did we, — my mother 
and myself. The Cross- Keys lay aside from any of the 
main highways of the county, and the farmers around were 
mostly descendants of the original settlers of the soil, a 
hundred and fifty years before. Their lives were still as 
simple and primitive as in the last century. Few of them 
ever travelled farther than to the Philadelphia market, at 
the beginning of winter, to dispose of their pigs and poul- 
try. A mixture of the German element, dating from the 
first emigration, tended still further to conserve the habits 
and modes of thought of the community. My maternal 
grandfather, Hatzfeld, was of this stock, and many of his 
peculiarities, passing over my mother, have reappeared in 
me, to play their part in the shaping of my fortunes. 

My father had been a house- and sign-painter in the 
larger village of Honeybrook, four miles distant. Immedi- 
ately after his death, which happened when I was eight 
years old, my mother removed to the Cross-Keys, princi- 
pally because she had inherited the small cottage and gar- 
den from her spinster aunt, Christina Hatzfeld. There 
was nothing else, for my great-aunt had only a life-interest 
in the main estate, which — I do not know precisely how 
— had passed into the hands of the male heirs. My 
mother's means were scarcely sufficient to support us in 
the simplest way, and she was therefore in the habit of 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 7 

"taking in sewing" from the wives of the neighboring 
farmers. . Her labor was often paid in produce, and she 
sometimes received, in addition, presents of fruit, potatoes, 
and fuel from the kindly-hearted people. Thus we never 
reached the verge of actual want, though there were times 
when our daily fare was plainer than she cared to let the 
neighbors see, and when the new coat or shawl had to be 
postponed to a more fortunate season. For at least half 
the year I attended the village school, and had already 
learned nearly as much as a teacher hired for twenty dollars 
a month was capable of imparting. The last one, indeed, 
was unable to help me through quadratic equations, and 
forced me, unwillingly, upon a course of Mensuration. 

Between mother and myself there was the most entire 
confidence, except upon the single subject of my future. 
She was at once mother and elder sister, entering with 
heart and soul into all my childish plans of work or play, 
listening with equal interest* to the stories I read, or relat- 
ing to me the himable incidents of her own life, with a 
sweet, fresh simplicity of language, which never lost by 
repetition. Her large black eyes would sparkle, and her 
round face, to which the old-fashioned puffs of hair on the 
temples gave such an odd charm, became as youthful in 
expression, I am sure, as my own. Her past and her pres- 
ent were freely shared with me, but she drew back when I 
turned with any seriousness towards the future. At one 
time, I think, she would have willingly stopped the march 
of my years, and been content to keep me at her side, a 
boy forever. I was incapable of detecting this feeling at 
the time, and perhaps I wrong her memory in alluding to 
it now. God knows I have often wished it could have 
been so ! Whatever of natural selfishness there may have 
been in the thought, she weighed it down, out of sight, by 
all those years of self-denial, and the final sacrifice, for my 
sake. No truer, tenderer, more single-hearted mother 
ever lived than Barbara Godfrey. 



8 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

She was so cordially esteemed in our little community 
that no reproach, on my account, was allowed to reach her 
ears. A boy of my age, who had no settled occupation, 
was there considered to be in danger of becoming a use- 
less member of society ; antipathy to hard, coarse manual 
labor implied a moral deficiency ; much schooling, for one 
without means, was a probable evil : but no one had the 
heart to unsettle the widow's comfort in her child. Now 
and then, perhaps, a visitor might ask, " What are you 
going to make of him, Barbara ? " whereupon my mother 
would answer, " He must make himself," — with a con- 
fident smile which put the question aside. 

These words came across my mind as I leaned against 
the palings, trying to summon some fleeting outline of my 
destiny from the vapory distance of the landscape. I was 
perplexed, but not discouraged. My trials, thus far, had 
been few. When I first went to school, the boys had called 
me " Bricktop," on account of<the auburn tinge of my hair, 
which was a source of great sorrow until Sam Haskell, 
whose head was of fiery hue, relieved me of the epithet. 
Emily Rand, whose blue eyes and yellow ringlets confused 
my lessons, (I am not certain but her pink-spotted calico 
frock had something to do with it,) treated me scornfully, 
and even scratched my face when it was my turn to kiss 
her in playing " Love and War." The farmers' sons also 
laughed at my awkwardness and want of muscle ; but this 
annoyance was counterbalanced in the winter, when they 
came to measure another sort of strength with me at school. 
I had an impression that my value in the neighborhood 
was not estimated very highly, and had periodical attacks 
of shyness which almost amounted to self-distrust. On the 
other hand, I had never experienced any marked unkind- 
ness or injustice ; my mother spoke ill of no one, and I did 
not imagine the human race to be otherwise than honest, 
virtuous, and reciprocally helpful. 

I soon grew tired of facing the sober aspect of reality. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



SO unexpectedly presented, and wandered off, as was the 
habit of my mind, into vague and splendid dreams. If I 
had the Wonderful Lamp, — if a great roc should come 
sailing out of the western sky, pick me up in his claws, and 
carry ''me to the peaks overlooking the Valley of Diamonds, 

if there were still a country where a cat might be sold 

for a ship-load of gold, — if I might carry a loaf of bread 
under my arm, like Benjamin Franklin, and afterwards 
become rich and celebrated, (the latter circumstance being, 
of course, a result of the former,) — there would be no dif- 
ficulty about my fate. It was hardly likely, however, that 
either of these things would happen to me ; but why not 
something else, equally strange and fortunate ? 

A hard slap on a conspicuous, but luckily not a sensitive 
portion of my body caused me to spring almost over the 
paling. I whirled around, and with a swift instinct of re- 
taliation, struck out violently with both fists. 

'' No, you d*on't ! " cried Bob Simmons, (for he it was,) 
dodging the blows and then catching me by the wrists. "I 
did n't mean to strike so hard, John ; don't be mad about it. 
I 'm going away soon, and came around to tell you." 

Bob was my special crony, because I had found him to 
be the kindest-hearted of all the village boys. He was not 
bright at school, and was apt to be rough in his language and 
manners ; but from the day he first walked home with me, 
with his arm around my neck, I had faith in his affection. 
He seemed to like me all the better from my lack of the 
hard strength which filled him from head to foot. He once 
carried me nearly a quarter of a mile in his arms, when I 
had sprained my ankle in jumping down out of an apple-tree. 
He had that rough male nature which loves what it has 
once protected or helped. Besides, he was the only com- 
panion to whom I dared confide my vague projects of life, 
with the certainty of being not only heard, but encouraged. 
"Yes," said Bob, "I am going away, maybe in a few 
weeks." 



10 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" Where ? Not going away for good, Bob ? " 

" Like as not. I 'm nearly eighteen, and Dad says it 's 
time to go to work on my own hook. The farm, you know, 
is n't big enough for him and me, and he can get along with 
Brewster now. So I must learn a trade ; what do you think 
it is ? " 

" You said. Bob, that you 'd like to be a mason ? " 

" Would n't I, though ! But it 's the next thing to it. 
Dad says there a'n't agoin' to be many more stone houses 
built, — bricks has got to be the fashion. But they 're so 
light, it 's no kind o' work. All square, too ; you 've 
just to put one atop of t' other, and there 's your wall. 
Why, you could do it, John. Mort ! Mort ! hurry up with 
that 'ere hod ! " 

Here Bob imitated the professional cry of the bricklayer 
with startling exactness. There was not a fibre about him 
that shrank from contact with labor, or from the rough tus- 
sle by which a poor boy must win his foothold in the world. 
I would, at that moment, have given my grammar and alge- 
bra (in which branches he was lamentably deficient) for a 
quarter of his unconscious courage. A mid thought flashed 
across my mind : I might also be a bricklayer, and his fel- 
low-apprentice ! Then came the discouraging drawback. 

" But, Bob," I said, " the bricks are so rough. I don't 
like to handle them." 

" Should n't wonder if you did n't. Lookee there ! '* 
And Bob laid my right hand in his broad, hard palm, and 
placed his other hand beside it. " Look at them two hands ! 
they 're made for different kinds o' work. There 's my 
thick fingers and broad nails, and your thin fingers and nar- 
row nails. You can write a'most like copy-plate, and I make 
the roughest kind o' pot-hooks. The bones o' your fingers 
is no thicker than a girl's. I dunno what I 'd do if mine 
was like that." 

I colored, from the sense of my own physical insignifi- 
cance. " Oh, Bob," I cried, " I wish I was strong ! I '11 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 11 

have to get my own living, too, and I don't know how to 
begin." 

" Oh, there 's time enough for you, John," said Bob, con- 
solingly. " You need n't fret your gizzard yet awhile. 
There 's teachin' school is n't so bad to start with. You '11 
soon be fit to do it, and that 's what I'd never be, I reckon." 

We went into the little hay-mow over the stable, and sat 
down, side by side, in the dusky recess, where our only 
light came through the cracks between the shrunk clap- 
boards. Bob had brought a horse to the smith to be shod all, 
round, and there were two others in before him ; so he could 
count on a good hour before his turn came. It might be 
our last chat together for a long time, and the thought of 
this made our intercourse more frank and tender than usual. 

" Tell me, Bob," said I, " what you '11 do after you 've 
learned the trade." 

" Why, do journey-work, to be sure. They get a dollar 
and a half a day, in Phildelphy." 

"Well, — after that?" 

" Dunno. P'raps I may be boss, and do business on the 
wholesale. Bosses make money hand-over-fist. I tell 
you what, John, I 'd like to build a house for myself like 
Rand's, — heavy stone, two foot thick, and just such big 
willy-trees before it, — a hundred acres o' land, and prime 
stock on 't, ; would n't I king it, then ! Dad 's had a hard 
time, he has, — only sixty acres, you know, and a morgidge 
on it. Don't you tell nobody, — I 'm agoin' to help him 
pay it off, afore I put by for myself." 

I had not the least idea of the nature of a mortofagfe, but 
was ashamed to ask for information. Sometimes I had 
looked down on Bob from the heights of my superior 
learning, but now he seemed to overtop me in everything, — 
in strength, in courage, and in practical knowledge. For 
the first time, I would have been willing to change places 
with him, — ah, how many times afterwards ! 

When we went down out of the hay-mow it was nearly 



12 JOHN" GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

evening, and I hurried back to our cottage. The fire which 
I was accustomed to make in the little back-kitchen was al- 
ready kindled, and the table set for supper. Mother was 
unusually silent and preoccupied ; she did not even ask me 
where I had been. After the simple meal — made richer 
by the addition of four of Neighbor Niles's rusks — was 
over, we took our places in the sitting-room, she with her 
lap-board, and I with " Sandford and Merton." She did 
not ask me to read aloud, as usual, but went on silently 
^and steadily with her sewing. Now and then I caught the 
breath of a rising sigh, checked as soon as she became 
conscious of it. Nearly an hour passed, and my eyelids 
began to grow heavy, when she suddenly spoke. 

" Put away the book, John. You 're getting tired, I see, 
and we can talk a little. I have something to say to you." 

I shut the book and turned towards her. 

" It 's time, John, to be thinking of making something of 
you. In four or five years — and the time will go by only 
too fast — you'll be a man. I'd like to keep you here 
always, but I know that can't be. I must n't think of my- 
self: I must teach you to do without me." 

" But I don't want to do without you, mother ! " I cried. 

" I know it, Johnny dear ; but you must learn it, never- 
theless. Who knows how soon I may be taken from you ? 
I want to give you a chance of more and better schooling, 
because you 're scarcely strong enough for hard work, and 
I think you 're not so dull but you could manage to get 
your living out of your head. At least, it would n't be 
right for me not to help you what little I can. I 've looked 
forward to it, and laid by whatever I could, — dear me, it 's 
not what it ought to be, but we must be thankful for what 's 
allowed us. I only want you to make good use of your 
time while it lasts; you must always remember that every 
day is an expense, and that the money was not easy to get." 

" What do you want me to do, mother ? " I asked, after 
a pause. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 13 

" I have been talking with Neighbor Niles about it, and 
she seems to see it in the same light as I do. * She 's a 
good neighbor, and a sensible woman. Charley Rand's 
father is going to send him this winter to Dr. Dymond's 
school, a mile the other side of Honeybrook. It 's the best 
in the neighborhood, and I would n't want you to be far 
away from me yet awhile. They ask seventy-five dollars 
for the session, but Charley goes for sixty, having his wash- 
ing and Sunday's board at home. It seems like a heap of 
money, John, but I 've laid away, every year since we came 
here, twenty dollars out of the interest on the fifteen hun- 
dred your father left me, and that 's a hundred and sixty. 
Perhaps I could make out to let you have two years' 
schooling, if I find that you get on well with your studies. 
I 'm afraid that I could n't do more than that, because I 
don't want to touch the capital. It 's all we have. Not 
that you would n't be able to earn your living in a few 
years, but we never know what's in store for us. You 
might become sickly and unable to follow any regular 
business, or I " 

Here my mother suddenly stopped, clasped her hands 
tightly together, and turned pale. Her lips were closed, 
as if in pain, and I could see by the tension of the muscles 
of her jaws that the teeth were set hard upon each other. 
Of late, I had several times noticed the same action. I 
could not drive away the impression that she was endeavor- 
ing not to cry out under the violence of some mental or 
physical torture. After a minute or two, the rigidity of 
her face softened ; she heaved a sigh, which, by a transition 
infinitely touching, resolved itself into a low, cheerful 
laugh, and said, — 

" But there 's no use, after all, in worrying ourselves 
by imagining what may never happen. Only I think it 
best not to touch the capital ; and now you know, Johnny, 
what you have to depend on. There 's the money that I 've 
been saving for you, and you shall have the benefit of it, 



14 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

every penny. Some folks would say it '^ not wisely spent, 
but it 's you must decide that by the use you make of it. 
If I can see, every Saturday night when you come home, 
that you know a little more than you did the week before, 
I shall be satisfied." 

I was already glowing and tingling with delight at the 
prospect held out to me. The sum my mother named 
seemed to me enormous. I had heard of Dr. Dymond's 
school as a paradise of instruction, unattainable to common 
mortals. The boys who went there were a lesser kind of 
seraphs, sitting in the shade of a perennial tree of knowl- 
edge. With such advantages, all things seemed suddenly 
possible to me ; and had my mother remarked, " I expect 
you to write a book as good as 'The Children of the 
Abbey,' — to make a better speech than Colonel McAllis- 
ter, — to tell the precise minute when the next eclipse of 
the sun takes place," — I should have answered, " Oh, of 
course." 

" Wlien am I to go ?" I asked. 

" It will be very soon, — too soon for me, for I shall find 
the house terribly lonely without you, John. Charley 
Rand will go in about three weeks, and I should like to 
have you ready at the same time." 

" Three weeks ! " I exclaimed, with a joyous excitement, 
which I checked, feeling a pang of penitence at my own 
delight, as I looked at mother. 

She was bravely trying to smile, but there were tears in 
her black eyes. One of her puffs fell out of its place ; I 
went to her and put it back nicely, as I had often done 
before, — I liked to touch and arrange her hair, when she 
would let me. Then she began to cry, turning away her 
head, and saying, " Don't mind me, Johnny ; I did n't 
mean to." 

It cost me a mighty effort to say it, but I did say, — " If 
you 'd rather have me stay at home, mother, I don't want 
to go. The cow must be milked and the garden looked 
after, anvhow. I did n't think of that." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 15 

" But I did, my child," she said, wiping her eyes with 
her apron. " Neighbor Niles will take Muley, and give me 
half the milk every day. Then, you know, as you will not 
be here on week-days, I shall need less garden-stuff. It 's 
all fixed, and must n't be changed. I made up my mind to 
it years ago, and ought to be thankful that I 've lived to 
carry it out. Now, pull off your shoes and go to bed." 

I stole up the narrow, creaking ladder of a staircase to 
my pigeon-hole under the roof That night I turned over 
more than once before I fell asleep. I was not the same 
boy that got out of the little low bed the morning before, 
and never would be again. 



16 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER n. 

DESCRIBING MY INTRODUCTION INTO DR. DTMOND'S 
BOARDING-SCHOOL. 

From that day the preparations for my departure went 
forward without interruption. Mother quite recovered her 
cheerfulness, both permitting and encouraging my glowing 
predictions of the amount of study I should perform and 
the progress I should make. The jacket was finished, still 
retaining its perverse tendency to fly open, which gave me 
trouble enough afterwards. I had also a pair of trousers 
; of the same material ; they might have been a little baggy 
■ in the hinder parts, but otherwise they fitted me very well. 
A new cap was needed, and mother had serious thoughts 
of undertaking its construction. My old seal-skin was 
worn bare, but even a new one of the same material 
would scarcely have answered. Somebody reported from 
Honeybrook that Dr. Dymond's scholars wore stylish caps 
of blue cloth, and our store-keeper was therefore commis- 
sioned to get me one of the same kind from Philadelphia. 
He took the measure of my head, to make sure of a fit ; yet, 
when the wonderful cap came, it proved to be much too 
large. " 'T will all come right in the end, Mrs. Godfrey," 
said the store-keeper ; " his head '11 begin to swell when he 's 
' been at school a few weeks." Meanwhile, it was carefully 
accommodated to my present dimensions by a roll of paper 
inside the morocco lining. A pair of kip-skin boots — real 
top-boots, and the first I ever had — completed my outfit. 
Compared with my previous experience, I was gorgeously 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 17 

arrayed. It was fortunate that my Sundays were to be 
spent at home, as a second suit, much less a better one, 
was quite beyond my mother's means. 

Mr. Rand, Charley's f\ither, made all the necessary ar- 
rangements with Dr. Dymond, and kindly offered to take 
me over to the school in his " rockaway," on the first Mon- 
day of November. The days dragged on with double slow- 
ness to me, but I have no doubt they rushed past like a 
whirlwind to mother. I did everything I could to arrange 
for her comfort during my absence, — put the garden in 
winter trim, sawed wood and piled it away, sorted the sup- 
plies of potatoes and turnips in the cellar, and whatever 
else she suggested, — doing these tasks with a feverish haste 
and an unnecessary expenditure of energy. Whenever I 
had a chance, I slipped away to talk over my grand pros- 
pects with Dave Niles, or some other of the half-dozen vil- 
lage boys of my age. I felt for them a certain amount of 
commiseration, which was not lessened by their sneers at 
Dr. Dymond's school, and the damaging stories which they 
told about the principal himself I knew that any of them — 
unless it was Jackson Reanor, the tavern-keeper's son — 
would have been glad to stand in my new boots. 

" I know all - about old Dymond," said Dave ; " he licks 
awfully, and not always through your trousers, neither. 
Charley Rand 'd give his skin if he had n't to go. His fa- 
ther makes him." 

" Now, that 's a lie, Dave," I retorted. (We boys used 
the simplest and strongest terms in our conversation.) " Old 
Rand would n't let Charley be licked ; you know he took 
him away from our school when Mr. Kendall whacked his 
hands with the ruler." 

" Then he '11 have to take him away from Dymond's too, 
I guess," said Dave. " Wait, and you '11 see. Maybe 
there '11 be two of you." 

I turned away indignantly, and went to see Bob Sim- 
mons, whose hearty sympathy was always a healing-plaster 
2 



18 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

for the moral bruises inflicted by the other boys. Bob was 
not very demonstrative, but he had a grave, common-sense 
way of looking at matters which sometimes brought me 
down from my venturesome flights of imagination, but left 
me standings on firmer ground than before. When I first 
told him of my mother's plan, he gave me a thundering 
slap on the back, and exclaimed, — 

" She 's a brick ! It 's the very thing for you, Johnny. 
Come, old fellow, you and me '11 take an even start, — your 
head aginst my hands. I would n't stop much to bet on 
your head, though I do count on my hands doin' a good deal 
for me." 

Finally the appointed Monday arrived. I was to go in 
the afternoon, and mother had dinner ready by twelve 
o'clock, so that Mr. Rand would not be obliged to wait a 
minute when he called. Her plump little body was in con- 
stant motion, dodging back and forth between the kitchen 
and sitting-room, while she talked upon any and every sub- 
ject, as if fearful of a moment's rest or silence. " It will 
only be until Saturday night," she repeated, over and over 
again. How little I understood all this intentional bustle 
at the time, yet how distinctly I recall it now. 

After a while, there was a cry outside of " Hallo, the 
house ! " — quite unnecessary, for I had seen Rand's rocka- 
way ever since it turned out of the lane beyond Reanor's 
stables. I hastily opened the door, and shouted, " I 'm com- 
ing ! " Mother locked the well-worn, duninutive carpet- 
bag which I was to take along, gave me a kiss, saying 
cheerfully, " Only till Saturday night ! " and then followed 
me out to the gate. Mr. Rand and Charley occupied the only 
two seats in the vehicle, but there was a small wooden stool 
for me, where I sat, wedged between their legs, holding the 
carpet-bag between mine. Its contents consisted of one 
shirt, one pair of stockings, a comb, tooth-brush and piece 
of soap, a box of blacking and a brush. I had never heard 
of a night-shirt at that tune. When I opened the bag, after- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 19 

wards, I discovered two fall pippins and a paper of cakes 
snugly stowed away in one corner. 

" Good-day, Mrs. Godfrey ! " said Mr. Rand, squar- 
ing himself on his seat, and drawing up the reins for a 
start ; " I '11 call on the way home, and tell you how I 
left 'em." 

" I shall be so much obliged," my mother cried. " Do 
you hear, Johnny ? I shall have word of you to-night ; 
now, good-bye ! " 

Looking back as we drove away, I saw her entering the 
cottage-door. Then I looked forward, and my thoughts 
also went forward to the approaching school-life. I felt the 
joy and the fear of a bird that has just been tumbled out 
of the nest by its parent, and flutteringly sustains itself on 
its o^vn wings. I did not see, as I now can, my mother 
glance pitifully around the lonely room after she closed the 
door ; carefully put away a few displaced articles ; go to the 
window and look up the road by which I had disappeared ; 
and' then sink into her quaint old rocking-chair, and cry 
without stint, until her heart recovers its patience. Then I 
see her take up the breadths of a merino skirt for Mrs. 
Reanor, and begin sewing them together. Her face is calm 
and pale ; she has rearranged her disordered puffs, and 
seems to be awaiting somebody. She is not disappointed : the 
g^te-latch clicks, the door opens, and good Neighbor Niles 
comes in with a half-knit stocking in her hand. This means 
tea, and so the afternoon passes cheerfully away. But when 
the fire is raked for the night on the kitchen-hearth, mother 
looks or listens, forgetting afresh every few minutes that 
there will be no sleeper in the little garret-room to-night ; 
takes up her lamp with a sigh, and walks wearily into her 
chamber ; looks long at the black silhouette of my father, 
hung over the mantel-piece ; murmurs to herself, — is it a 
prayer to Our Father, or a whisper to the beloved Spirit ? 
— and at last, still murmuring words whose import I may 
guess, and with tears, now sad, now grateful, lies down in 



20 JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 

her bed and gives her soul to the angels that protect the 
holy Sleep ! 

Let me return to my own thoughtless, visionary, confident 
self. Charley and I chattered pleasantly together, as we 
rode along, for, although he was no great favorite of mine, 
the resemblance in our destined lot for the next year or 
two brought us into closer relations. Being an only son, 
he had his own way too much, and sometimes showed him- 
self selfish and overbearing towards the rest of us ; but I 
never thought him really ill-willed, and I could not help 
liking any boy (or girl, either) who seemed to like me. 

Mr. Rand now and then plied us with good advice, which 
Charley shook off as a duck sheds water, while I received 
it in all earnestness, and with a conscientious desire to re- 
member and profit by it. He also enlarged upon our fu- 
ture places in the world, provided our " finishing " at the 
school was what it ought to be. 

" I don't say what either o' you will be, mind," he said ; 
" but there 's no tellin' what you might nH be. Member o' 
the Legislatur' — Congress — President : any man may be 
President under our institootions. . If you turn out smart 
and sharp, Charley, I don't say but what I might n't let you 
be a lawyer or a doctor, — though law pays best. You, 
John, '11 have to hoe your own row ; and I dunno what 
you 're cut out for, — maybe a minister. You 've got a sort 
o' mild face, like ; not much hard grit about you, I guess, 
but 't a'n't wanted in that line." 

The man's words made me feel uncomfortable — the 
more so as I had never felt the slightest ambition to become 
a clergyman. I did n't quite know what he meant by " hard 
grit," but I felt that his criticism was disparaging, con- 
trasted with his estimate of Charley. My reflections 
were interrupted by the latter saying, — 

" I 'm agoin' to be what I like best, Pop ! " 

I said nothing, but I recollect what my thoughts were : 
" I 'm going to be what I can ; I don't know what ; but it 
will be something" 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 21 

From the crest of a long, rolling wave of farm-land we 
now saw the village of lioneybrook, straggling across the 
bottom of a shallow valley, in the centre of which, hard 
against the breast of a long, narrow pond, stood its flour- 
and saw-mills. I knew the place, as well from later visits 
as from my childish recollections ; and I knew also that the 
heavy brick building, buried in trees, on a rise of ground 
off to the northeast, was the lioneybrook Boarding-School 
for Boys, kept by Dr. Dymond. A small tin cupola (to 
my boyish eyes a miracle of architectural beauty) rose 
above the trees, and sparkled in the sun. Under that 
magnificent star I was to dwell. 

We passed through the eastern end of the village, and in 
another quarter of an hour halted in a lane, at one end of 
the imposing establishment. Mr. Rand led the way into 
the house, Charley and I following, carpet-bags in hand. 
An Irish servant-girl, with a fiice like the rising moon, 
answered the bell, and ushered us into a reception-room on 
the right hand of the passage. The appearance of this 
room gave me a mingled sensation of delight and awe. 
There was a bookcase, a small cabinet of minerals, two 
large maps on the walls, and a plaster bust of Franklin on 
the mantel-piece. The floor was covered with oil-cloth, 
checkered with black and white squares, and a piece of 
green oil-cloth, frayed at the edges, bedecked the table. 
The only ornament in the room Avas a large spittoon of 
brown earthen-ware. Charley and I took our seats behind 
the table, on a very slippery sofa of horse-hair, while Mr. 
Rand leaned solemnly against the mantel-piece, making 
frequent use of the spittoon. Through a side-door we 
heard the unmistakable humming of a school in full blast. 

Presently this door opened, and Dr. Dymond entered. 
I looked with some curiosity at the .Jupiter Tonans whose 
nod I was henceforth to obey. He was nothing like so 
large a man as I expected to see. He may have been fifly 
years old ; his black hair was well streaked with gray, and 



22 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

he stooped slightly. His gray eyes were keen and clear, 
and shaded by bushy brows, his nose long and wedge- 
shaped, and his lips thin and firm. He was dressed in 
black broadcloth, considerably glazed by wear, and his 
black cravat was tied with great care under a very high 
and stiff shirt-collar. His voice was dry and distinct, his 
language precise, and the regular play of his lips, from the 
centre towards the corners, suggested to me the idea that 
he peeled his words of any roughness or inaccuracy as they 
issued from his mouth. 

" Ah, Mr. Rand ? " he said, bowing blandly and shaking 
hands. "And these are the boys ? The classes are scarcely 
formed as yet, but we shall soon get them into the right 
places. How do you do ? This is young Godfrey, I pre- 
sume." ^ 

He shook hands with us, and then turned to Mr. Eand, 
who took out his pocket-book and produced two small rolls, 
one of which I recognized as that which mother had given 
to him when we left home. It was " half the pay in ad- 
vance," in accordance with the terms of the institution. 
Dr. Dymond signed two pieces of paper and delivered 
them in return, afler which he announced : — 

" I must now attend to my school. The boys may remain 
in the family -parlor until tea, when they will join the other 
pupils. They will commence the regular course of study 
to-morrow morning." 

He ushered us across the passage into the opposite room, 
bade good-bye to Mr. Eand, and disappeared. " Well, 
boys," said the latter, " I guess it 's all ship-shape now, and 
I can go. I want you to hold up your heads like men, and 
work like beavers." He shook hands with Charley, but 
only patted me on the head, which I did n't like ; so, when 
Charley ran to the window to see him drive down the lane, 
I turned my back and began examining the books on the 
table. 

There were " Dick's Works," and Dr. Lardner's " Scien- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 23 

tific Lectures," and " Redfield's Meteorology," and I don't 
know what besides, for, stumbling on Mrs. Somerville's 
" Physical Geography," I opened that, and commenced read- 
ing. I had a ravenous hunger for knowledge, and my op- 
portunities for getting books had been so few that scarcely 
anything came amiss. Many of the technical terms used in 
the book were new to me, but I leaped lightly over them, 
finding plenty of stuff to keep my interest alive. 

" I say. Jack," Charley suddenly called, " here 's one of 
the boys ! " 

My curiosity got the better of me. I laid down the book, 
and went to the window. A lank youth of about my o^vn 
age, with short brown hair and sallow face, was leaning 
against the sunny side of a poplar-tree, munching an apple. 
From the way in which he made the tree cover his body, 
and the furtive glances he now and then threw towards the 
house, it was evident that he was not pursuing the " regular 
course of study." We watched him until he had finished 
the apple and thrown away the core, when he darted across 
to the nearest corner of the house, and crept along the 
wall, under the very window at which we were standing. 
As he was passing it, he looked up, dodged down suddenly, 
looked again, and, becoming reassured, gave us an impu- 
dent wink as he stole away. 

We were so interested in watching this performance 
that a sharp "Ahem!" in the room, behind us, caused us 
both to start and blush, with a sense of being accessories in 
the misdemeanor. I turned and saw an erect, sparely 
formed lady of thirty-five, whose clouded gray eyes looked 
upon me through a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. Her 
hair was brown, and hung down each side of her face in 
three long curls. Her gown was of a black, rustling stuff, 
which did not seem to be silk, and she wore a broad linen 
collar, almost like a boy's, with a bit of maroon-colored 
ribbon in front. If I were an artist, I am sure I could 
draw her entire figure at this moment. It was Miss Hitch- 



24 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

cock, as I discovered next day, — a distant relative, I 
believe, of Dr. Dymond, who assisted him in teaching the 
younger boys, and, indeed, some of the older ones. Her 
specialty was mathematics, though it was said that she was 
tolerably well versed in Latin also. 

" You are new scholars, young gentlemen, I see," she 
remarked, in a voice notable, like Dr. Dymond's, for its 
precise enunciation. " May I ask your names ? " 

Charley gave his, and I followed his example. 

"Indeed ! Godfrey? A mathematical name ! Do you 
inherit the peculiar talent of your famous ancestor ? " 

Her question was utterly incomprehensible to me. I 
had never even heard of Thomas Godfrey or his quadrant, 
and have found no reason, since, to claim relationship with 
him. I had a moderate liking for abstract mathematics, 
but not sufficient to be developed, by any possibility, into a 
talent. Consequently, after stammering and hesitating, I 
finally answered, " I don't know." 

' " We shall see," she said, mth a patronizing, yet friendly 
air. " How far have you advanced in your mathematical 
studies ? " 

I gave her the full extent of my algebra. 

" Do you know Logarithms ? " 

Again I was cruelly embarrassed. I was not sure 
whether she meant a person or a book. Not being able to 
apply the term to anything in my memory, I at last an- 
swered in the negative. 

"You will come to them by the regular progressive 
path," she said. " Also the Differential Calculus. There 
I envy you ! I think the sense of power which you feel 
when you have mastered the Differential Calculus never 
can come twice in the course of a mathematical curriculum. 
I would be willing to begin again, if I were certain that 
I should experience it a second time," Here she sighed, 
as if recalling some vanished joy. 

For my part, I began to be afraid of Miss Hitchcock. I 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 25 

had never encountered, much less imagined, such a prodigy 
of learning. I despaired of being able to understand her ; 
how she would despise my ignorance when she discovered 
it ! I afterwards found that, although she was very fond of 
expatiating upon mathematical regions into which few of 
the scholars ventured, she was a very clear and capital 
instructress when she descended to the simpler branches. 

Turning from me, she now said to Charley, '' Do you 
share your friend's taste ? " 

He appeared no less bewildered than myself; but he 
answered, boldly, " Can't say as I do." 

'• Come to me, both of you." 

She took a seat, and Ave approached her awkwardly, and 
mth. not a little wonder. She stretched forth her hands 
and grasped each of us by the outer arm, stationed us side 
by side, and looked from one to another. " Quite a differ- 
ence in the heads!" she remarked, after a full minute of 
silent inspection : " Number is not remarkably developed 
in either ; Language good in both ; more Ideality here," 
(touching me on one of the temples,) " also more of the 
Moral Sentiment," (placing a hand on each of our heads). 
Then she began rubbing Charley's head smartly, over the 
ears, and though he started back, coloring with anger, she 
composedly added, " I thought so, — Acquisitiveness six 
plus, if not seven." 

We retired to our seats, not at all edified by these caba- 
listic sentences. She presently went to a bookcase, glanced 
along the titles, and, having selected two bulky volumes, 
approached us, saying, '' I should think these works would 
severally interest you, young gentlemen, judging from your 
developments." 

On opening mine, I found it to be " Blair's Rhetoric," 
while Charley's, as I saw on looking over his shoulder at 
the title, was the first volume of "McCulloch's Commercial 
Dictionary." For herself she chose a volume of equal size, 
containing diagrams, which, from their irregular form, I am 



26 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

now inclined to think must have been geological. Charley 
seemed to be greatly bored with this literary entertainment, 
and I should probably have been equally so, had I not 
found couplets and scraps of poetry on turning over the 
leaves. These kernels I picked out from the thick husks of 
prose in which they were wrapped, and relished. 

The situation was nevertheless tedious, and v/e were 
greatly relieved, an hour later, when the dusk was already 
falling, to hear the loud sound of a bell echoing through 
the house. Miss Hitchcock rose and put away her book, 
and we were only too glad to do likewise. The regular 
tramp of feet sounded in the passage, and presently an im- 
mense noise of moving chairs came from the adjoining room 
on our left. The door of this room opened, and Dr. Dy- 
mond beckoned to us. On entering, we beheld two long 
tables, at each of which about twenty boys or young men, 
of all ages from twelve to twenty-four, were seated. Dr. 
Dymond, placing himself at the head of the first table, 
pointed out to us two vacant seats at the bottom of the sec- 
ond, which was presided over by Miss Hitchcocla All eyes 
were upon us as we walked down the room, and I know I 
was red to the roots of my hair ; Charley took the scrutiny 
more easily. It was not merely the newness of the expe- 
rience, though that of itself was sufficiently embarrass- 
ing, — the consciousness of my new clothes covered me 
awkwardly, from head to foot. I saw some of the boys 
wink stealthily at each other, or thrust their tongues into 
their cheeks, and envied the brazen stare with which my 
companion answered them. 

No sooner had we taken our seats than Dr. Dymond 
rapped upon the table with the handle of his knife. The 
forty boys immediately fixed their eyes upon their plates, 
and a short grace was uttered in a loud tone. At its con- 
clusion, the four Irish maids in waiting set up a loud rat- 
tling of cups and spoons, and commenced pitching measures 
of weak tea upon the table. I was so amazed at the rapid- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 27 

ity and apparent recklessness -with which they flung the 
cups down beside the boys, that I forgot to help myself to 
the plate of cold meat until all the best pieces were gone, 
and I was obliged to choose between a few fatty scraps. 
This dish, with some country-made cheese, and a moder- 
ate quantity of bread and butter, constituted the supper. 
When Dr. Dymond had finished, he clasped his hands 
over his stomach, twirling one thumb around the other, 
and now and then casting a sharp glance at such of the 
boys as were still eating. The latter seemed to have a 
consciousness of the fact, for they hastily crammed the last 
morsels of bread into their mouths and gulped down half a 
cup of tea at a time. In a few moments they also crossed 
their knives and forks upon their plates, and sat erect in 
their chairs. Thereupon Dr. Dymond nodded down his 
table, first to the row on his right hand, and then to the 
row on his left, both of whom rose and retired in the same 
order. Miss Hitchcock gave a corresponding signal to our 
table, and I found myself, almost before I knew it, in the 
school-room on the other side of the hall. Most of the 
boys jerked down their caps from the pegs and rushed out- 
of-doors, being allowed half an hour's recreation before 
commencing their evening studies. With them went Char- 
ley, leaving me to look out for myself. Some half-dozen 
youths, all of them older than I, gathered around the stove, 
and I sat down shyly upon a stool not far from them, and 
listened to their talk. Subjects of study, village news, 
the private scandal of the school, and " the girls," were 
strangely mingled in what I heard ; and not a few things 
caused me to open my eyes and wonder what kind of fel- 
lows they were. I had one comfort, however : they were 
evidently superior to my former associates at the Cross- 
Keys. 

As they did not seem to notice me, I got up after a while 
and looked out the window at the other boys playing. 
Charley Rand was already " hail-fellow well-met " with the 



28 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

most of them. I have never since seen his equal for mak- 
ing acquaintances. 

It was not long before a few strokes of the bell hanging 
under the tin cupola called them all into the school-room. 
Lamps were lighted, and the Principal made his appear- 
ance. His first care was to assign desks to us, and I was 
a little disappointed that Charley and I were placed at dif- 
ferent forms. I found myself sandwiched between a grave, 
plodding youth of two-and-twenty, and a boy somewhat 
younger than myself, who had a disagreeable habit of whis- 
pering his lessons. At the desk exactly opposite to me sat 
a boy of eighteen, whose face struck me as the most beau- 
tiful I had ever seen, yet the impression which it produced 
was not precisely agreeable. His head was nobly balanced 
and proudly carried, the hair black and crisply curling, the 
skin uniform as marble in its hue, which was a very pale 
olive, the lips full, short, and scornfully curved, and the eyes 
large and bright, but too defiant, for his years, in their ex- 
pression. Beside him sat his physical opposite, — a red- 
cheeked, blue-eyed, laughing fellow of fourteen, as fresh 
and sweet as a girl, but with an imp of mischief dodging 
about his mouth, or lurking in the shadow of his light- 
brown locks. I had not been at my desk fifteen minutes 
before he stealthily threw over to me a folded slip of paper, 
on which he had written, " What is your name ? " 

I looked up, and was so charmed by the merry brightness 
of the eyes which met mine that I took a pen and wrote, 
" John Godfrey. "What is yours ? " 

Back came the answer, — " Bill Caruthers." 

It was several days before I discovered why he and all 
the other boys who heard me address him as Bill Caruthers 
laughed so immoderately. The little scamp had written the 
name of my grave right-hand neighbor, his own name be- 
ing Oliver Thornton. 

There was no recitation in the evening, so, after a few 
questions. Dr. Dymond ordered me to prepare for the gram- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 29 

mar class in the morning. I attended to the task conscien- 
tiously, and had even gone beyond it when bedtime came. 
The Doctor himself mounted with us to the attic-story, 
which was divided into four rooms, containing six beds 
each. I had expected to sleep with Charley liand, and was 
quite dismayed to see him go off to another room with one 
of his new playmates. 

I stood, meanwhile, lonely and abashed, with my little 
carpet-bag in hand, in the centre of one of the rooms, with 
nine boys around me in various degrees of undress. Dr. 
Dymond finally perceived my forlorn plight. 

" Boys," said he, " which beds here are not filled. You 
must make room for Godfrey." 

" Whitaker's and Penrose's," answered one, who sat in 
his shirt on the edge of a bed, pulling off his stockings. 

The Doctor looked at the beds indicated. " Where 's 
Penrose ? " he said. 

" Here, sir," replied Penrose, entering the room at that 
moment. It was my vis-a-vis of the school-room. 

" Godfrey will sleep with you." 

Penrose cast an indifferent glance towards me, and pulled 
off his coat. I commenced undressing, feeling that all the 
boys in the room, who were now comfortably in bed, were 
leisurely watching me. But Dr. Dj-mond stood waiting, 
lamp in hand, and I hurried, with numb fingers, to get off 
my clothes. " A slim chance of legs," I heard one of the 
boys whisper, as I crept along the further side of the bed 
and stole between the sheets. Penrose turned them down 
immediately afterwards, deliberately stretched himself out 
with his back towards me, and then drew up the covering. 
Dr. Dymond vanished with the lamp, and closed the door 
after him. 

My situation was too novel, and — let me confess the exact 
truth — I was too frightened, to sleep. I had once or twice 
passed a night \di\\ Bob Simmons, at his father's house, but 
with this exception had always slept alone. The silence 



30 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

and indifference of my bedfellow troubled me. I envied 
the other pairs, who were whispering together, or stifling 
their laughter with the bedclothes, lest the Doctor might 
hear. I tucked the edges of the sheet and blankets under 
me, and lay perfectly still, lest I should annoy Penrose, 
who was equally motionless, — but whether he slept or not, 
I could not tell. My body finally began to ache from the 
fixed posture, but it was a long time before I dared to turn, 
moving an inch at a time. The glory of the school was 
already dimmed by the experience of the first evening, and 
I was too ignorant to foresee that my new surroundings 
would soon become not only familiar, but pleasant. The 
room was silent, except for a chorus of deep breathings, 
with now and then the mutterings of a boyish dream, be- 
fore I fell asleep. 



JOHX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 31 



CHAPTER III. 

IN WHICH I BEGIN TO LOOK FORWARD. 

The bell in the cupola called us from our beds at the first 
streak of dawn. The clang awoke me with a start, my 
sleep having been all the more profound from its delay in 
comino-. For a minute or two I could not imasjine where 
or what I was, and even when the knowledge finally crept 
through my brain, and I had thrust my spare legs out from 
under the bedclothes, I mechanically kept my head bent 
down lest it should bimip against the raflers in my garret 
at home. Penrose, who was already half dressed, seemed 
to notice this ; there was a mocking smile on his handsome 
lips, but he said nothing. The other boys set up such a 
clatter that I was overlooked, and put on my clothes with 
less embarrassment than I had taken them off. 

We then went down-stairs to a large shed — an append- 
age to the kitchen — at the back of .the house. There 
was a pump in the corner, and some eight or ten tin wash- 
basins ranged side by side in a broad, shallow trough. Four 
endless towels, of coarse texture, revolved on rollers, and 
there was much pushing and hustling among the boys who 
came from the basins with bent, dripping faces, and ex- 
tended, dripping hands. Towards the end of the ablutions, 
as the dry spots became rare, the revolution of the towels 
increased, and the last-cemers painfully dried themselves 
along the edges. 

There was a fire in the school-room, but the atmosphere 
was chilly, and the dust raised by the broom lay upon the 



32 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

desks. My neighbor Caruthers, however, had taken his,seat, 
and was absorbed in the construction of a geometrical dia- 
gram. I made a covert examination of him as I took my 
place beside him. His features were plain, and by no means 
intellectual, and I saw that his hands were large and hard, 
showing that he was used to labor. I afterwards learned 
that he was actually a carpenter, and that he paid for his 
winter's instruction by the summer's earnings at his trade. 
He was patient, plodding, and conscientious in his studies. 
His progress, indeed, was slow, but what he once acquired 
was never lost. In the course of time a quiet, friendly un- 
derstanding sprang up between us ; perhaps we recognized 
a similar need of exertion and self-reliance. 

After breakfast the business of the school commenced 
in earnest with me. Dr. Dymond, with some disqualifica- 
tions, had nevertheless correctly chosen his vocation. Look- 
ing back to him now, I can see that his attainments were 
very superficial, but he had at least a smattering of every 
possible science, a clear and attractive way of presenting 
what he knew, and great skill in concealing his deficiencies. 
Though he was rather strict and exacting towards the 
school, in its collective character, his manner was usually 
friendly and encouraging towards the individual pupils. 
He thus preserved a creditable amount of discipline, with- 
out provoking impatience or insubordination. He was very 
fond of discoursing to us, sometimes for an hour at a time, 
upon any subject which happened temporarily to interest 
him ; and if the regular order of study was thereby inter- 
rupted, I have no doubt we were gainers in the end. He 
had the knack of exciting a desire for knowledge, which is 
a still more important quality in a teacher than that of im- 
parting it. In my own case, I know, what had before been 
a vague ambition took definite form and purpose under the 
stimulus of his encouragement. 

With the exception of Miss Hitchcock, there was no reg- 
ular assistant. One of the oldest pupils took charge of a. 



JOHN GODFIiEY'S FOUTUXES. 33 

dozen of the youngest scholars, in consideration (as was 
sunnised in the school) of being received as a boarder 
without pay. Mrs. Dyniond — or Mother Dymond, as the 
boys called her — was rarely seen, unless a scholar hap- 
pened to fall sick, when she invariably made her appear- 
ance with a bowl of hot gruel or herb-tea. She was a mild, 
phlegmatic creature, with weak eyes, very little hair on week- 
days, and an elaborate cap and false front on Sundays. She 
had no children. 

My first timidity on entering the school was considerably 
alleviated by the discovery that I was not behind any of 
the scholars of my age in the most important branches. 
Dr. Dymond commended my reading, chirography, and 
grammar, and gave me great delight by placing me in the 
" composition " class. I had a blank book for my exercises, 
which were first written on a slate and then carefully copied 
in black and white. The mysteries of amj^lification, con- 
densation, and transposition fascinated me. I don't know 
in how many ways I recorded the fact that " Peter, the 
ploughman, ardently loved Mary, the beautiful shepherd- 
ess." I drew the stock comparisons between darkness and 
adversity, sunshine and prosperity, plunged into antithesis, 
and clipped away pleonasms with a boldness which aston- 
ished myself. Penrose was in the same class. I thought, 
but it may have been fancy, that his lip curled a little when 
I went forward with him to the recitation. He looked at me 
gravely and steadily when my turn came ; I felt his eye, 
and my voice wavered at the commencement. It seemed 
that we should never become acquainted. I was too timid 
to make the least advance, though attracted, in spite of my- 
self, by his proud beauty ; and he retained the same air of 
haughty indifference. At night we lay down silently side 
by side, and it was not until the fourth morning that he ad- 
dressed a sinde word to me. I heard the bell, but linfjered 
for one sweet, wann minute longer. Perhaps he thought 
me asleep ; for he leaned over the bed, took me by the 
3 



84 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

shoulder, and said, " Get up ! " I was so startled that I 
sprang out of bed at one bound. 

I noticed that young Thornton, though a very imp of mis- 
chief towards the other boys, never dared to play the least 
prank upon Penrose. Something had happened between 
the two, during a previous term, but what it was, none ex- 
cept themselves knew. No one, I was told, could cope 
with Penrose in muscular strength, yet there was nothing 
of the bully about him. He was respected, without being 
popular ; his isolation, unlike that of Caruthers, had some- 
thing offensive about it. I was a little vexed with myself 
that he usurped so. prominent a place in my thoughts : but 
so it was. 

Charley Rand took on the ways of the school at the 
start, and was at home in every respect before two days 
were over. I could not so easily adapt myself to the new 
circumstances, but slowly and awkwardly put off my first 
painful feeling of embarrassment. Fortunately, before the 
week was over, another new scholar was introduced, and 
he served at least to tin-n the attention of the school away 
from me. I was older than he by three days' experience, 
— a fact which gave me a pleasant increase of confidence. 
Nevertheless, the time wore away very slowly ; months 
seemed to have intervened since my parting with my 
mother, and I was quite excited with the prospect of 
returning, when the school was dismissed, early on Satur- 
day afternoon. 

" Oh, Charley ! " I cried, as we passed over the ridge 
beyond Honeybrook, and Dr. Dymond's school sank out of 
sight, " only think ! in an hour we shall be at home." 

" If 't was n't for the better grub I shall get, Godfrey, 
I 'd as lief stay over Sunday with the boys," said he. He 
had already dropped the familiar " Jack," but this shocked 
me less than his indifference to the homestead, where, I 
knew, he was always petted and indulged. It was not 
long before I, in turn, learned to call him " Eand." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 35 

He continually detained me by stopping to search for 
chestnuts in the edges of the groves, or to throw stones at 
the squirrels scampering along the top-rails of the fences. 
Finally I grew impatient, and hurried forward alone, for 
the houses of our little village were in sight, and I knew 
mother would be expecting me every moment. I felt sure 
that I should see her face at the window, and considered a 
moment whether I should not jump into the next field and 
cross it to the rear of our garden, so as to take her by sur- 
prise. I gave up this plan, and entered by the front-door, 
but I still had my surprise, for she had not expected me so 
soon. 

" Well, mother, have you been very lonely ? " I asked, 
as soon as the first joyous greeting was over. 

" No, Johnny, not more than I expected ; but it 's nice 
to have you back again. I '11 just see to the kitchen, and 
then you must tell me everything." 

She bustled out, but came back presently with red 
cheeks and sparkling eyes, moved her chair beside mine, 
and said, " Now " — 

I gave the week's history, from beginning to end, my 
mother every now and then lifting up her hands and say- 
ing, " You don't say so ! " I concealed only my own feel- 
ings of strangeness and embarrassment, which it was mor- 
tifying enough to confess to myself. The account I gave 
of the studies upon which I bad entered was highly satis- 
factory to my poor mother, and I have no doubt that the 
pride she felt, or foresaw she should feel, in my advance- 
ment, helped her thenceforth to bear her self-imposed sac- 
rifice. My description of Miss Hitchcock's singular ques- 
tions and phrenological remarks seemed to afford her great 
pleasure, and I am sure that the picture which I drew of 
Dr. Dymond's erudition must have been overwhelming. 

" I 'm glad I 've sent you, Johnny ! " she exclaimed when 
I had finished. *• It seems to be the right place, and I 
don't begrudge the money a bit, if it helps to make a man 



36 JOHN GODFREY'S FOETUNES. 

of you. I 've been more troubled this week on your account 
than my own. Some boarding-schools are rough places for 
a boy like you, that has n't been knocked about and made 
to fight his way. I was afraid I 'd kept you too long at 
home, maybe, but I guess you 're not spoiled yet, — are 
you?" 

" No, indeed, mother ! " I cried, jumping up to smooth 
one of her puffs. How glad I was of the bit of boyish 
swagger which had so happily deceived her. 

We had " short cakes " and currant-jam for supper that 
night. How cosy and delightful it was, to be sure ! I had 
brought along the book in which my exercises in composi- 
tion were written, and read them aloud, every one. Poor 
mother must have been bewildered by the transpositions ; 
perhaps she wondered what upon earth it all meant ; but 
she said, " And did you do all that yourself? " with an air 
of serious admiration which made my heart glow. After 
supper, Neighbor Niles came in, and I must read the 
exercises all over again for her benefit, my mother every 
now and then nodding to her and whispe'ring, "All his 
own doing." 

" It 's a deal for a boy o' his age," said Neighbor Niles ; 
" though, for my part, I 've got so little book-larnin', that I 
can't make head nor tail of it. Neither my old man nor 
my boys takes to sich things. Brother Dan'l, — him that 
went out to the backwoods, you know, comiri' ten year next 
spring, — he writ some verses once't on the death of 'Lijah 
Sykes, cousin by the mother's side, that was — but I dis- 
remember 'em, only the beginnin' : — 

" Little did his parents think, and little did his parents know, 
That he should so soon be called for to go." 

If Dan'l 'd ha' had proper schoolin', he might ha' been the 
schollard o' the fam'ly. When Johnny gits a little furder, 
I should n't wonder if he could write somethin' about my 
Becky Jane, — somethin^ short and takin', that we could 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. .^^7 

have cut on her tombstone. You know it costs three cents 
a letter." 

" Think of that, Johnny ! " cried my mother, triura- 
l^hantly : " if you could do that, now ! Why, people would 
read it long after you and I are dead and gone ! " 

My ambition was instantly kindled to produce, in the 
course of time, a '- short and takin' " elegy on Becky Jane. 
This was my first glimpse of a possible immortality. I 
looked forward to the day when my fame should be estab- 
lished in every household of the Cross-Keys, to be freshly 
revived whenever there was a funeral, and the inscriptions 
on the tombstones were dutifully read. Perhaps, even, I 
might be heard of in Iloneybrook, and down the Phila- 
delphia road as far as Snedikersville ! There was no end 
to the conceit in my abilities which took possession of me ; 
I doubt whether it has ever since then been so powerful. 
When I went into the garden the next morning, I looked 
with contempt at the little corner behind the snowball- 
bush. AVliat a boy I had been but a few weeks ago ! — and 
now I was a man, or the next thing to it. I instinctively 
straightened myself in my new boots, and felt either cheek 
carefully, in the hope of finding a nascent down ; but, alas ! 
none was perceptible. Bob Simmons told me in confidence, 
the last time we met, that the hostler at the Cross- Keys had 
shaved both him and Jackson Reanor, and had predicted 
that he would soon have a beard. I must wait another 
year, I feared, for this evidence of approaching manhood. 

Bob, I found, was not to commence his apprenticeship 
until early in the spring. I longed to see him and talk 
over my school experiences, but I was not thoughtless 
enough to leave mother during my first Sunday at home, 
especially as I saw that the dear little woman was becom- 
ing more and more reconciled to the change. The day 
was passed in a grateful quiet, and we went early to bed, 
in order that I might rise by daybreak, and be ready to 
join Charley Rand. 



S8 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Thus week after week of the new life went by, until the 
pangs of change were conquered to both of us. I began to 
put forth new shoots, like a young tree that has been taken 
from a barren hill-side and set in the deep, mellow soil of a 
garden. My progress for a time was astonishing, for all 
the baffled desires of my later childhood became so many 
impelling forces. Mother soon ceased to be the oracle she 
had once been ; but I think she felt this (if, indeed, she 
was aware of it) as one joy the more. Her hope was to 
look up to and be guided by me. She possessed simply 
the power of enduring adverse circumstances, not the 
energy necessary to transform them. In my advancement 
she saw her own release from a maternal responsibility, 
always oppressive, though so patiently and cheerfully borne. 

The books I required were an item which had been over- 
looked in her estimate of the expenses, and we had many 
long and anxious consultations on this subject. I procured 
a second-hand geometry, at half-price, from Walton, the 
young man who taught for his board, and so got on with 
my mathematics; but there seemed no hope of my being 
able to join the Latin class, for which three new books were 
required, at the start. By Christmas, however, mother 
raised the necessary funds, having obtained, as I afterwards 
discovered, a small advance upon the annual interest of the 
fifteen hundred dollars, which was not due until April. This 
money had been placed in the hands of her brother-in-law, 
Mr. Amos Woolley, a grocer, in Reading, for investment. 
She had never before asked for any part of the sum in ad- 
vance, and I suspect it was not obtained without some dif- 
ficulty. 

Dr. Dymond was too old a teacher to let his preferences 
be noticed by the scholars, but I knew that both he and 
Miss Hitchcock were kindly disposed towards me. He was 
fond of relating anecdotes of Franklin, Ledyard, Fulton, 
and other noted men who had risen from obscurity, and in- 
citing his pupils to imitate them. Whatever fame the latter 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 39 

might achieve would of course be reflected upon him and his 
school. The older boys — who were mostly plodding youths 
of limited means, ambitious of culture — were also friendly 
and encouraging, and I associated almost exclusively with 
them. The pranks of the younger ones were no longer 
formidable, since there was so little opportunity of their 
practical: application to me. I had spirit enough to resent 
imposition, and my standing as a scholar prevented me from 
becoming a butt suitable for torment : so, upon the whole, 
I was tolerably happy and satisfied, even without the exist- 
ence of an intimate friendship. My childish faith in the 
truth and goodness of everybody had not yet been shaken. 

Punctually, every Saturday afternoon, Charley and I re- 
turned to the Cross-Keys, on foot when the weather was 
good, and in Mr. Rand's " rockaway " when there was rain 
or mud. For three weeks in succession the sleighing was 
excellent, and then we had the delight of a ride both ways, 
— once (shall I ever forget it ? ) packed in with the entire 
Rand family, Emily, Charley, and myself on the front seat, 
with our arms around each other to keep from tumbling off. 
Emily was very gracious on this occasion ; I suppose my 
blue cap and gray jacket made a difference. She wore a 
crimson merino dress, which I thought the loveliest thing I 
had ever seen, and the yellow ringlets gushed out on either 
side of her face, from under the warm woollen hood. We 
went home in the t^vinkling of an eye, and I forgot my car- 
pet-bag, on reaching the front gate, but Charley flung it 
into Niles's yard. 

I find myself lingering on these little incidents of my 
boyhood, — clinging to that free, careless, confident period, 
as if reluctant to march forward into the region of disen- 
chantments. The experiences of boys differ perhaps as 
widely as ^hose of men, but they float on a narrow stream, 
and, though some approach one bank and some the oilier, 
the same features are visible to all. How different from 
the open sea, where millions of keels pass and repass day 



40 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

and night, rarely touching the moving circles of each other's 
horizons, — some sailing in belts of prosperous wind, be- 
tween the tracks of tempest, — some foundering alone, just 
out of sight of the barks that would have flown to their res- 
cue ! I must not forget that the details of my early history 
are naturally more interesting to myself than to the reader, 
and that he is no more likely to deduce the character of my 
later fortunes from them than I was at the time. Even in 
retros23ect, we cannot always decipher the history of our 
lives. The Child is Father of the Man, it is true : but few 
sons are like their fathers. 

The only circumstance which has left a marked impres- 
sion upon my memory occurred towards the close of the 
winter. Both Dr. Dymond and Miss Hitchcock were 
obliged to leave the school one afternoon, on account of 
some important occurrence in Honeybrook, — I think a fu- 
neral, though it may have been a wedding. Walton was 
therefore placed at the central desk, on the platform, and 
we were severely enjoined to preserve order during the ab- 
sence of the principal. We sat very quietly until the Doc- 
tor's carriage was seen to drive away from the door, where- 
upon Thornton, Rand, and a number of the other restless, 
mischievous spirits began to perk up their heads, excliange 
winks and grins, and betray other symptoms of revolt. 
Walton knew what was coming : he was a meek, amiable 
fellow, sweating under his responsibility, and evidently be- 
wildered as to the course he ought to pursue. He knit his 
brows and tried to look very severe ; but it was a pitiful sham, 
which deceived nobody. Thornton, who had been dodging 
about and whispering among his accomplices, immediately 
imitated poor Walton's expression. The corrugation of his 
brows was something preternatural. The others copied his 
example, and the aspect of the school was most ludicrous. 
Still, there had been no palpable violation of 'the rules, and 
Walton was puzzled what to do. To notice the caricature 
would be to acknowledge its correctness. He drew his left 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 41 

shoulder up against his ear and thrust his right hand into 
his back hair, — a habit which was known to the school. A 
dozen young scamps at once did the same thing, but with 
extravaofant contortions and orimaces. 

The effect was irresistible. There was a rustling and 
shaking of suppressed laughter from one end of the school- 
room to the other — the first throes of an approaching 
chaos. For the life of me, I could not help joining in it, 
though sympathizing keenly with Walton's painful position. 
His face flushed scarlet as he looked around the room ; but 
the next instant he became very pale, stood up, and after 
one or two convulsive efforts to find a voice, — which was 
very imsteady when it came, — addressed us. 

'^ Boys," said he, " you know this is n't right. I did n't 
take Dr. Dymond's place of my own choice. I have n't got 
his authority over you, but you 'd be orderly if he was here, 
and he 's asked you to be it while he 's away. It 's his rule 
you 're breaking, not mine. I can't force you to keep it, 
but I can say you 're wrong in not doing it. I 'm here to 
help any of you in your studies as far as I can, and I '11 at- 
tend to that part faithfully if you '11 all do your share in 
keeping order." 

He delivered these sentences slowly, making along pause 
between each. The scholars were profoundly silent and 
attentive. Thornton and some of the others tried a few 
additional winks and grimaces, but they met with no en- 
couras^ement ; we were waitinoj to see what would come 
next. When Walton finally sat down he had evidently lit- 
tle hope that his words would produce much effect ; and 
indeed there was no certainty that the temporary quiet 
would be long preserved. 

We were all, therefore, not a little startled when Pen- 
rose suddenly arose from his seat, and said, in a clear, firm 
voice, — "I am sure I speak the sentiments of all my fel- 
low-scholars, Mr. Walton, when I say that we will keep 
order." 



42 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

The older boys nodded their assent and resumed their 
studies. Thornton hung down his head, and seemed to 
have quite lost his spirits for the rest of the day. But the 
business of the school Avent on like clock-work. I don't 
think we ever had so quiet an afternoon. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 43 



CHAPTER IV. 

CONTAINING FEATS IN THE CELLAR AND CONVERSATIONS 
UPON THE ROOF. 

With the end of March the winter term of the school 
came to a close. I had established my position as an apt 
and rapidly advancing scholar ; others had the start of me, 
but no one made better progress. I had mastered, among 
other things, Geometry and a Latin epitome of Sacred His- 
tory. The mystic words — " Deus creavit caelum et terram" 
— which I had approached with wonder and reverence, as 
if they had been thundered out of an unseen world, were 
now become as simple and familiar as anything in Peter 
Parley. Miss Hitchcock, ^vith the air of a queen conferring 
the order of the Shower-Bath, promised me Cornelius Ne- 
pos and Fluxions for the summer term ; and Dr. Dymond 
hinted to the composition-class that we might soon try our 
hands at original essays. Something was also said about a 
debating club. The perspective lengthened and brightened 
with every forward step. 

The close of the term was signalized by a school exhi- 
bition, to which were invited the relatives of the pupils and 
the principal personages in Honeybrook, — two clergymen, 
the doctor, the •' squire," the teacher of the common school, 
and six retired families of independent means. To most 
of us boys it was both a proud and solemn occasion. I was 
bent upon having mother to witness my performance, and 
hoped she could come with the Rands, but their biggest 
and best carriage would hold no more than themselves. 
At the last moment Neighbor Niles made the offer of an 



44 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

ancient horse and vehicle, which she used for her own oc- 
casional visits in the neighborhood. As the horse had fre- 
quently been known to stop in the road, but never, of his 
own will, to go faster than a creeping walk, it was con- 
sidered safe for mother to drive him over alone and take 
me home with her for my month's vacation. 

At the appointed time she made her appearance, dressed 
in the brown silk that dated from her wedded days, and the 
venerable crape shawl which had once covered the shoul- 
ders of Aunt Christina. She was quite overawed on being 
presented to Dr. Dymond and Miss Hitchcock, but made 
speedy acquaintance with Mother Dymond, and, indeed, 
took a seat beside her in the front row of spectators. The 
exercises were very simple. Specimens of our penmanship 
and geometrical diagrams (which few of the guests under- 
stood) were exhibited ; we were drilled in mental arithme- 
tic, and answered chemical, pneumatic, hydraulic, and astro- 
nomical questions. But the crowning pride and interest of 
the day was reserved for the declamations, in which at least 
half the pupils took part. From the classic contents of the 
" Columbian Orator," we selected passages from Robert 
Emmet, William Pitt, Patrick Henry, and Cicero ; Byron, 
Joel Barlow, and Milton ; Addison and Red Jacket. Dr. 
Dymond assigned to me the part of " David," from Hannah 
More's dramatic poem. I did n't quite like to be addressed 
as " girl ! " by Bill Dawson, — the biggest boy in the school, 
who was Goliath, — or to be told to 

"Go, 
And hold fond dalliance with the Syrian maids : 
To wanton measures dance ; and let them braid 
The bright luxm-iance of thy golden hair," — 

especially as Thornton and the younger fellows snickered 
when he came to the last line. My hair might still have 
had a reddish tinge where the sun struck across it, but it 
was growing darker from year to year. I gave it back to 
Goliath, however, when it came to my turn to say, — 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 45 

" I do defy thee, 
Thou foul idolater ! " 

or when, dilating into prophecy, I screamed, — 

" Nor thee alone, — 
The mangled carcasses of your thick hosts 
Shall spread the plains of Elah! " 

I think I produced an effect. I know that mother looked 
triumphant when I swung a piece of leather with nothing 
in it, and Bill Dawson tumbled full length on the platform, 
occasioning mild exclamations and shuddering among the 
female spectators ; and I fancied that P^mily Rand (in the 
crimson merino) must have been favorably impressed. I 
certainly made a better appearance than Charley, who 
rushed through his share of the debate in the Roman Sen- 
ate, in this wise, — 

" Mythoughtslmustconfessaretumedonpeace. " 

The great, the auspicious day of Cato and of Rome came 
to an end. I said good-bye to the boys : Caruthers was go- 
ing off to his carpenter-work, and would not return. I liked 
him and was sorry to lose hun. We never met again, but 
I have since heard of him as State senator in a Western 
capital. Even the dark eyes of Penrose looked upon me 
kindly as he shook hands, bestowing a side-bow, as he did 
so, upon my mother. Miss Hitchcock gave me a parting 
injunction of " Remember, Godfrey ! — Fluxions and Cor- 
nelius Nepos ! " and so we climbed into the creaking vehi- 
cle and set off homewards. 

We might have walked with much more speed and com- 
fort. The horse took up and put down his feet as gently 
as if he were suffering from corns ; at the least rise in the 
road he stopped, looked around at us, and seemed to expect 
us to alight, heaving a deep sigh when forced to resume his 
march. Then he had an insane desire of walking in the 
gutter on the left side of the road, and all my jerking of 
the reins and flourishing of a short dogwood switch pro- 
duced not the slightest effect. He merely whisked his 



46 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

stumpy tail, as much as to say, " That for you ! " We 
reached the Cross-Keys at last, long after sunset ; but the 
abominable beast, who had been so ready to stop anywhere 
on the way, now utterly refused to be pulled up at our gate, 
and mother was obliged to ride on to the bars at the end 
of Niles's lane, before she could get down. Our good 
Neighbor thereupon sallied out and took us in to tea ; so 
the end of the journey was pleasant. 

The vacation came at a fortunate time. I succeeded in 
getting our garden into snug trim : the peas were stuck and 
the cabbages set out before my summer term commenced ; 
nor were the studies neglected which I had purposed to 
continue at home. Bob Simmons had finally left, and I 
missed him sadly : Rand's great house, whither I was now 
privileged to go occasionally, with even the attraction of 
Emily, could not fill up the void left by his departure. I 
was not sorry when the month drew to an end. The little 
cottage seemed to have grown strangely quiet and lonely ; 
my nest under the roof lost its charm, except when the 
April rains played a pattering hiUaby upon the .shingles ; 
looking forward to Cornelius Nepos and Fluxions, I no 
longer heard my mother's antiquated stories with the same 
boyish relish, and something of this new unrest must have 
betrayed itself in my habits. I never, in fact, thought of 
concealing it — never dreamed that my mind, in breaking 
away from the government of home ideas and associa- 
tions, could give a pang to the loving heart, for which I 
was all, but which, seemingly, was not all for me. 

I returned to Dr. Dymond's with the assured, confident 
air of a toy who knows the ground upon which he stands. 
My relations with the principal had been agreeable from 
the commencement, and the contact with my fellow-stu- 
dents had long since ceased to inspire me with shyness or 
dread. I had many moderate friendships among them, but 
was strongly attracted towards none, except, perhaps, him 
whose haughty coldness repelled me. I was at a loss, then, to 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 47 

comprehend this magnetism : now it has ceased to be obscure. 
I was impressed, l\ir more powerfully than I suspected, by 
his physical beauty. Had those short, full, clearly-cut lips 
smiled upon me, I should not have questioned whether the 
words that came from them were good or evil. His influ- 
ence over me might have been bdVmdless, if he had so 
willed it — but he did not. The tenderer shoots of feeling 
were nipped as fast as they put forth. He was always just 
and considerate, and perhaps as comyiunicative tow^ards 
myself as towards any of the other boys ; but this was 
far from being a frank, cordial companionship. His reti- 
cence, however, occasionally impressed me as not being 
entirely natural ; there was about him an air of some sad 
premature experience of life. 

Few of the quiet, studious, older pupils remained during 
the summer, while there was an accession of younger ones, 
principally from Philadelphia. The tone of our society 
thus became gay and lively, even romping, at times. I 
was heartily fond of sport, and I now gave myself up to it 
wholly during play-hours. I was always ready for a game 
of ball on the green ; for a swim in the shallow upper part 
of Honeybrook Pond ; for an excursion to the clearings 
where wild strawberries grew ; for — not at first, I honestly 
declare, and not without cowardly terrors and serious 
twinges of conscience — for a midnight descent into the 
cellar, a trembling groping in the dark until the pies were 
found, and then a rapid transfer of a brace of them to our 
attic. The perils of the latter exploit made it fearfully at- 
tractive. Had the pies been of the kind which we abomi- 
nated, — dried-apple, — we should have stolen them all the 
same. Nay, such is the natural depravity of the human 
heart, that no pies were so good (or ever have been^since) 
as those which we divided on the top of a trunk, and ate 
by moonlight, sitting in our shirts. 

The empty dishes of course told the tale, and before 
many days a stout wooden grating was erected across the 



48 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

cellar, in front of the pastry shelves. This device merely 
stimulated our ingenuity. Various plans were suggested, 
and finally two of the boldest boys volunteered to descend 
and test a scheme of their own. They were absent half 
an hour, and we were beginning to be more amused than 
apprehensive at their stay, when they appeared with the 
coveted pies in their arms. They had secreted matches 
and a bit of candle, found the oven-shovel, and thrust it 
through the grating, after which it was an easy matter to 
reach the dish, withdraw the pie perpendicularly, and re- 
place the dish on the shelf I fancy Mother Dymond must 
have opened her silly eyes unusually wide the next morning. 
^ The enemy now adopted a change of tactics which came 
near proving disastrous. Thornton and myself were chosen 
for the next night's foray. We had safely descended the 
stairs (which would creak tremendously, however lightly you 
stepped), and I, as the leader, commejiced feeling my way 
in the dark across the dining-room, when I came unexpect- 
edly upon a delicately piled pyramid of chairs. I no sooner 
touched the pile than down it crashed, with the noise of ar- 
tillery. Thornton whisked out of the door and up-stairs 
like a cat, I following, completely panic-struck. I was none 
too quick, for another door suddenly opened into the pas- 
sage and the light of a lamp struck vengefully up after us. 
By this time I had cleared the first flight, and all that Dr. 
Dymond could have seen of me was the end of a flag of 
truce fluttering across the landing-place. He gave chase 
very nimbly for his years, but I increased the advantage 
already gained, and was over head and ears in bed by the 
tinie he had reached the attic-floor. Thornton was already 
snoring. The Doctor presently made his appearance in 
his dressing-gown, evidently rather puzzled. He looked 
from bed to bed, and beheld only the innocent sleep, knit- 
ting up the ravelled sleave of care. If he had been familiar 
with Boccaccio (a thing not to be for a moment suspected), 
he might have tried the stratagem of King Agilulf with 



JOHN GODI'KEY'S FOUTUNES. * 49 

triiinipliant success. Even the test which Lady Derby ap- 
plied to Feiiella might have been sufficient. I flmcy, how- 
ever, that he felt silly in being foiled, and thought only of 
retreating with dignity. 

He finally broke silence by exclaiming, in a stern voice, 
'' Who Avas it ? " 

Bill Dawson, who had really been asleep, started, rubbed 
his eyes, and finally sat up in bed, looking red and flustered. 
The Doctor's face brightened ; he moved a step nearer to 
Bill, and again asked : " Who made the disturbance ? " 

"I — I 'm sure I don't know," Bill stammered : " I did 
n't hear anything." 

" You did not hear ? There was a dreadful racket, sir. 
I thought the house was coming down. It roused me out 
of my sleep " (as if he had not been watching in the ad- 
joining room ! ) " and then I heard somebody running up 
and down stairs. Take care, Dawson ; this won't do." 

Bill made a confused and incoherent protestation* of in- 
nocence, which the Doctor cut short by exclaiming : " Don't 
let it happen again, sir ! " and vanishing with his lamp. 
Whether he was really so little of a detective as to suspect 
the first boy whom his voice brought to life, or merely made 
use of Dawson as a telegraphic wdre to transmit messages 
to the rest of us, I will not decide. At dinner the follow- 
ing day, and for several succeeding days, Bill was furnished, 
in accordance with private instructions to the w^aiting-maids, 
with an immense slice of pie, which he devoured in con- 
vulsive haste, Dr. Dymond's sharp eye on him all the time, 
and Dr. Dymond's thumbs revolving around each other at 
double speed. It was great fun for us, although it put a 
stop to our midnight excursions to the cellar. 

A few weeks later, however, we found a substitute which 
was more innocent, although quite as irregular. The 
weather had become very hot, and our attic was so insuffer- 
ably close and sultry that we not only kept the window open 
all night, but kicked off the bedclothes. Frequently one 



50 ■ JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

or the other of us, unable to sleep, would sit in the window 
and cool his heated body. And so it happened one night, 
when we were all tossing restlessly and exchanging lamen- 
tations, that Thornton's voice called in to us from the outer 
air, " I say, boys, come out here ; it 's grand." 

The roof of the house was but slightly pitched, with a 
broad gutter at the bottom. Thornton had stepped into 
this and walked up to the comb, where he sat in his breezy 
drapery, leaning against a chimney. The prospect was so 
tempting that all of us who were awake followed him. 

It was a glorious summer night. The- moon, steeped in 
hazy warmth, swam languidly across the deep violet sky, in 
which only the largest stars faintly sparkled. The poplar- 
leaves rocked to and fro on their twisted stems and coun- 
terfeited a pleasant breeze, though but the merest breath 
of air was stirring. Stretching away to the south and 
southwest, the whole basin of the valley was visible, its 
features massed and balanced with a breadth and beauty 
which the sun could never give. The single spire of Hon- 
eybrook rose in darker blue above the shimmering pearly 
gray of the distance, and a streak of purest silver was 
drawn across the bosom of the pond. Those delicate, vol- 
atile perfumes of grass and leaves and earth which are 
only called forth by night and dew, filled the air. On such 
a night, our waste of beauty in the unconsciousness of slum- 
ber seems little less than sin. 

We crowded together, sitting on the sharp comb (which, 
gradually cutting into the unprotected flesh, suggested the 
advantage of being a cherub) or lying at full length on the 
gentle slope of the roof, and unanimously declared that it 
was better than bed. Our young brains were warmed and 
our fancies stimulated by the poetic influences of the night. 
We wondered whether the moon was inhabited, and if so, 
what sort of people they were ; and finally, whether the 
lunar, school-boys played ball, and bought pea-nuts with 
their pocket-money, and stole pies. 



JOHN GODFKEY'S FORTUNES. 51 

" By George ! " exclaimed one of the composition-class, 
" that 's a good idea ! Next week, the Doctor says, we may 
choose our own subjects to write about. Now I 'm going 
to write about the inhabitants of the moon, because, you 
know, a fellow can say just what he pleases, and who 's to 
prove it may n't be true ? " 

" I guess I '11 write a poem, or a tragedy, or something 
of that sort," said Brotherton, sticking up one leg into the 
air as he lay upon his back. 

" What is a tragedy ? " asked Jones. 

" Pshaw ! don't you know that ? " broke in Thornton, 
with an air of contempt. " They 're played in the theatres. 
I 've seen 'em. ^\niere the people get stabbed, or poisoned, 
and everything comes out dreadful at the end, it 's tragedy ; 
and where they laugh all the time, and play tricks, and get 
married, and wind up comfortable, it 's comedy." 

" But I was at the theatre once," said Brotherton, " and 
two of them were killed, and he and she got married for 
alj that. I tell you, she was a beauty ! Now, what would 
you call that sort of a play ? " 

" Why, a comic tragedy, to be sure," answered Thornton. 

" Where do the theatres get them ? " 

" Oh, they have men hired to write them," Thornton 
continued, proud of a chance to show his superior knowl- 
edge. "My brother Eustace told me all about it. He 's a 
lawyer, and has an office of his own in Seventh Street. He 
knows one of the men, and I know him too, but I forget 
his name. I was in Eustace's office one afternoon when he 
came ; he had a cigar in his mouth ; he was a tragedician. 
A tragedician 's a man that writes only tragedies. Comedi- 
cians write comedies ; it 's great fun to know them. They 
can mimic anybody they choose, and change their faces into 
a hundred different shapes." 

" How much do they get paid for their tragedies ? " asked 
the inquisitive .Jones. 

" Very likely a hundred dollars a piece," I suggested. 



52 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" A hundred dollars ! " sneered Thornton ; " tell that to 
the marines ! Why, I suppose my brother Eustace could 
write one a day, — he writes like a book, I tell you, — and 
he 'd make tragedies quick enough, at that price. We had 
a ihoj, once, in father's store, that swept and made fires, 
and he went into the theatre for a soldier in the fighting- 
plays, for two dollars a week, — uniforms found. I should 
think if a regular tragedician got twenty dollars a week, 
he 'd be lucky." 

" Why don't your brother write them ? " I asked. 

" He ? Oh, he could do it easy, but I guess it is n't 
exactly respectable. A lawyer, you know, is as good as any 
man." 

" Shut up, you little fool ! " exclaimed a clear, deep voice, 
so good-humored in tone that we were slightly startled, not 
unmediately recognizing Penrose, who had come up on the 
other side of the dormer-window, and was seated in the 
hip of the roof. His shirt was unbuttoned and the collar 
thrown back, revealing a noble neck and breast, and his 
slender, symmetrical legs shone in the moonlight like 
golden-tinted marble. His lips were parted in the sensu- 
ous delight of the balmy air-bath, and his eyes shone like 
dark fire in the shadow of his brows. I thought I had 
never seen any human being so beautiful. 

" You forget, Oliver," he continued, in a kindly though 
patronizing tone, '' that Shakspeare was a writer of trage- 
dies." 

" I know, Penrose," Thornton meekly answered, " that 
Shakspeare was a great man. His books are in my 
brother's library at the office in Seventh Street, but I 've 
never read any of 'em. Eustace says I could n't under- 
stand 'em yet." 

" Nor he, either, I dare say," Penrose remarked. 

" Boys," he added, after a pause, " Brotherton has had 
an idea, and now I 've got one. This is a good time and 
place for selecting our themes for composition. We are in 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 53 

the higher regions of the atmosphere, and where the air 
expands I should n't wonder if the brain expanded too. 
]Moon light brings out our thoughts. Who 'd have supposed 
that Thornton knew so much about ' tragedicians ' and 
' comedicians ' ? " 

We all laughed, even Thornton himself, although he 
was n't sure but that Penrose might be " chaffing " him. 
The hitter's suggestion was at once taken up, and the 
themes discussed and adopted. I believe mine was " The 
Influence of Nature," or something of the kind. 

" Why could n't we get up a Fourth-of-July Celebration 
among ourselves ? We have lots of talent," Penrose 
further sujxsested, in a mockinsf tone ; but we took it sen- 
ously and responded with great enthusiasm. We appealed 
to him as an authority for the order of exercises, each one 
anxious for a prominent part. 

" It might do, after all," he said, reflectively ; ^' they 
usually arrange it so : — First, prayer ; that 's Dr. Dymond, 
of course, always provided he 's willing. Then, reading the 
Declaration ; we want a clear, straightforward reader for 
that." 

" You 're the very fellow ! " exclaimed Thornton. We 
all thought and said the same thing. 

" Well — I should n't mind it for once, — so you don't ask 
me to spout and make pump-handles of my arms. That 's 
fixed, we '11 say. What 's next ? Song — ' The Star- 
Spangled Banner,' of course ; hard to sing, but four voices 
will do, if we can get no more. Then the Oration ; don't 
all speak at once ! I think, on the whole, Marsh would do 
tolerably." 

" Marsh is n't here," Jones interrupted. 

" What if he is n't ! Are we to have a school celebra- 
tion, or only a fi'penny-bit concern, got up by this bare- 
legged committee, holding a secret session on the Academy 
roof? Let me alone till I 've finished, and then say and 
do what you please. Oration — after that, recitation of 



54 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

What-d'-yoii-call-him's ' Ode to the American Eagle ' ; one 
or two more addresses — short — to give the other Daniel 
Websters a chance ; then, we ought to have an original 
poem, but who 'd write it ? " 

This seemed to us beyond the combined powers of the 
school. We were silent, and Penrose continued, — 

" I don't know about that, I 'm sure. But it 's part of 
the regular programme, — no gentleman's Fourth of July 
complete without it. If Godfrey would try, perhaps he 
might grind out something." 

" Godfrey ? " and " Me ? " were simultaneous exclama- 
tions, uttered by Jones, Brotherton, and myself 

"Yes, I can't think of anybody else. You could try 
your hand at the thing, Godfrey, and show it to Dr. Dy- 
mond. He '11 jDut a stopper on you if you don't do credit 
to the school. There 's nothing else that I know of, ex- 
cept a song to wind up with ; ' Old Hundred ' would do. 
But before anything more is done, we must let the rest of 
the boys know ; that 's all I 've got to say." 

While the others eagerly entered into a further discus- 
sion of the matter, I rolled over on the roof and gave my- 
self up to a fascinating reverie about the proposed poem. 
How grand, how glorious, I thought, if I could really do 
such a thing ! — if I could imitate, though at a vast dis- 
tance, the majestic march of Barlow's " Vision of Colum- 
bus " ! " Marco Bozzaris " I considered hopelessly beyond 
my powers. The temptation and the dread were about 
equally balanced; but the idea was like a tropical sand- 
flea. It had got under my skin, and the attempt to dis- 
lodge it opened the germs of a hundred others. I had 
never seriously tried my hand at rhyme, for the school-boy 
doggerel in which " Honeybrook " was coupled with " funny 
brook " and " Dymond " with " priming," was contemptible 
stuff. I am glad that the foregoing terminations are all 
that I remember of it. 

It was long past midnight before the excitement sub- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 55 

sided. Two boys, who had meanwhile gone to sleep on 
their backs, with their faces to the moon, were aroused, 
and we returned through the window. I got into bed, 
already linking " glory " with " story," though still trem- 
blingly uncertain of my ability. 

" Oh, Penrose," I whispered, as I lay down beside my 
bedfellow, " do you really think I can do it ? " 

" Don't bother me ! " was all the encouragement he gave, 
then or afterwards. 

Our airy conclaves were repeated nightly, as long as the 
warm weather lasted. The boys in the other rooms were 
let into the secret, and issued from their respective win- 
dows to join us. I remember as many as twenty-five, 
scattered about in various picturesque and sculpturesque 
attitudes. Dr. Dymond, apparently, did not suspect this 
new device : if we sometimes fell asleep over our books in 
the afternoon, the sultry weather, of course, was to blame. 
We afterwards learned, however, that we had been once 
or twice esjDied by late travellers on the neighboring high- 
way. 

The plan of our patriotic celebration matured and was 
finally carried out in a modified form. Our principal made 
no objection, and accepted our programme, with a "few 
slight changes, such as the substitution of the Rev. Mr. 
Langworthy, of lioneybrook, for himself, in the matter of 
the prayer. There was some competition in regard to 'the 
orations, but Marsh justified Penrose's judgment by pro- 
ducing the best. No one competed with me, nor do I 
believe that any one supposed I would be successful. It 
was a terrible task. I had both ardor and ambition, but 
a very limited vocabulary, and, unfortunately, an ear for the 
cadences of poetry far in advance of my power to create 
them. After trying the heroic and failing utterly, I at 
last hit upon an easy Hemans-y form of verse, which I 
soon learned to manage. I was very well satisfied with 
the result. It was a glorification of the Revolutionary 



56 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

heroes, in eight-line stanzas, with a refrain, which is the 
only portion of it I can remember, — 

" Give honor to our fathers' name, 
Strike up the glorious lay: 
Sound high for them the trump of fame, — 
'Tis Freedom's natal day! " 

" Not bad, not bad," said Dr. Dymond, when he had fin- 
ished reading this effusion, and I stood waiting, with fast- 
beating heart, to hear his decision. " ' Great oaks from 
little acorns grow,' even if the acorn is not perfectly round. 
Ha ! " he continued, smiling at the smartness of his own 
remark, " the Academy has never yet turned out a poet. 
We have two Members of Congress and several clergy- 
men, but we are not yet represented in the world of let- 
ters. It is my rule to encourage native genius, not to 
suppress it; so I'll give you a chance this time, Godfrey. 
Mind, I don't say that you are, or can be, a genuine poet ; 
if it 's in you, it will come out some day, and when that day 
comes, remember that I did n't crush it in the bud. These 
verses are fair, — very fair, indeed. They might be pruned 
to advantage, here and there, but you can very well repeat 
them as they are, only changing ' was ' into ' were,' — sub- 
jungtive mood, you know, — and ' them ' into ' they ' — 
* did' understood. The line will read so : — 
" ' If 't were given to us to tight as they.' 
And, of course, you must change the rhyme. * Diadem ' 
must come out: put ^ ray' ('of glory,' understood), or 
America — poetic license of pronunciation. I could teach 
you the laws which govern literary performances, but it is 
not included in the design of my school." 

Miss Hitchcock would have preferred one of the classic 
metres, only I was not far enough advanced to compre- 
hend them. She repeated to me Coleridge's translation 
of Schiller's illustrations of hexameter and pentameter. 
I thought they must be very fine, because I had not the 
least idea of the meaning. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 57 

TVhen I took the verses home to mother, she thought 
them ahnost as good as "Alcanzor and Zayda," the only 
poem she knew. I was obliged to make her an elegant 
copy, in my best hand, which she kept between the leaves 
of the f\miily Bible, and read aloud in an old-fashioned 
chant to Neighbor Niles or any other female gossip. 

When the celebration came off, the effect I produced 
was flattering. The excitement of the occasion made my 
declamation earnest and impassioned, and the verdict of 
the boys was that it was " prime." Penrose merely nodded 
to me when I sat down, as if confirming the wisdom of his 
own suggestion. I was obliged to be satisfied with what- 
ever praise the gesture implied, for I got nothing else. 



58 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER V. 

WHICH BRINGS A STERNER CHANGE IN MY FORTUNES. 

It is scarcely necessary to say that I was both proud and 
vain of the little distinction I had achieved. My pulse 
began to flutter with coy expectation whenever any of the 
boys mentioned the jDoeni, — which happened several times 
during the two succeeding days. I was backward to say 
much about it myself, but I dearly liked to hear others 
talk, except when they declared, as Bill Dawson did, " Oh, 
he got it out of some book or other." It was the author's 
experience in miniature, — extravagant praise, conceit, cen- 
sure, exasperation, indifference. 

Of course, I made other and more ambitious essays. 
Several of the boys caught the infection, and for a fort- 
night the quantity of dislocated metre, imperfect rhyme, and 
perfect trash produced in the Honeybrook Academy was 
something fearful. Brotherton attempted an epic on the 
discovery of America, which he called " The Columbine " ; 
Marsh wrote a long didactic and statistical poem on " The 
Wonders of Astronomy " ; while Jones, in whom none of 
us had previously detected the least trace of sentiment, 
brought forth, with much labor, a lamentable effusion, 
entitled, " The Deserted Maideft," commencing, — 

" He lias left me : oh, what sadness, 
What reflections fill my breast! " 

Gradually, however, the malady, like measles or small- 
pox, ran its course and died out, except in my own case, 
which threatened to become chronic. My progress in the 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 59 

graver studies was somewhat interrupted thereby, but I 
prosecuted Latin with ardor, tempted by the promise of 
Virgil, and began to crave a higher hterary culture. I am 
not sure but that it was a fortunate accident which turned 
my mind in this direction. The course of study at Honey- 
brook was neither thorough nor methodical. A piece of 
knowledge was hacked off this or that branch, and thrown 
to us in lumps. There was a lack of some solvent or as- 
similating element, to equalize our mental growth, and my 
new ambition, to a certain extent, supplied the need. 

A week or so after the Fourth, three of us had permis- 
sion to go to Iloneybrook during the noon recess. My 
errand was to buy a lead-pencil for three cents, and Thorn- 
ton's to spend his liberal supply of pocket-money in pea- 
nuts and candy, which he generously shared with us. As 
we were returning up the main street, we paused to look 
at a new brick house, — an unusual sight in the quiet 
village, — the walls of which had just reached the second 
story. A ringing cry of " Mort ! " at the same moment 
came from an active workman, who was running up one of 
the corners. I recognized the voice, and cried out in great 
joy, " Bob ! oh. Bob, is that you ? " 

He dropped his trowel, drew his dusty sleeve across his 
brow to clear his eyes from the streaming sweat, and looked 
down. The dear old fellow, — what a grin of genuine de- 
light spread over his face ! " Blast me if 't is n't John ! " 
he cried. " Why, John, how 're you gettin' on ? " 

" Oh, finely. Bob," I answered ; " may I come up there 
and shake hands with you ? " 

« No ; I '11 come down." 

He was down the gang^vay in three leaps, and gave me a 
crushing grip of his hard, brick-dusted hand. " I 've only 
got a minute," he said ; " the boss is comin' up the street. 
How you 've growed ! and I hear you 're a famous scholar 
already. Well — you 're at your trade, and I 'm at mine. 
I like it better 'n I thought I would. I can lay, and p'int, 



60 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

and run up corners, right smart. That 's my corner : is n*t 
it jDretty tolerable straight ? " 

I looked at it with the eye of a connoisseur, and re- 
marked, " It's very well done, indeed. Bob." 

" Well, good-bye. I 've got another thousand to lay be- 
fore [ knock off. T^ke care of yourself ! " 

He was back on the scaffold in no time. My two com- 
panions, standing beside me, had witnessed our interview 
with curiosity ; so I said, by way of explanation, as we 
moved on, " It 's Bob Simmons ; he 's a first-rate fellow." 

" A relation of yours, Godfrey ? " asked Thornton, rather 
impertinently. 

" Oh, no ! I wish he was. I have no relations except 
mother, and my uncle and aunt in Reading." 

" I 've got lots," Thornton asserted. "' Six — no, five 
uncles and six aunts, and no end of cousins. I don't think 
a fellow 's worth much that has n't got relations. Where 
are you going to get your money if they don't leave it to 
you ? " 

" I must earn mine," I said, though, I am ashamed to 
say, with a secret feeling of humiliation, as I contrasted my 
dependence with Thornton's assured position. 

" Earn ? " sneered Thornton. " You '11 be no better than 
that bricklayer. Catch me earning the money I spend; 
I 'm going to be a gentleman ! " 

I might here pause in the reminiscences of my school- 
days, and point a rnoral from poor Thornton's after-fate, — 
but to what end ? (Some destinies are congenital, and cut 
their way straight tlirough all the circumstances of life : 
their end is involved in their beginningX Let me remem- 
ber only the blooming face, the laugHmg eyes, and the 
sunny locks, nor imagine that later picture, which, thank 
God ! / did not see. 

Thornton did not fail to describe my interview with Bob, 
with his own embellishments, after our return ; and some 
of the boys, seeing that I was annoyed, tormented me with 



JOHN GODFREY'S FOKTUXES. 61 

ironical references to my friend. The annoyance was less, 
however, than it would have been in a more aristocratic 
school, for we had not only the sons of farmers, but some- 
times actual mechanics, among us. It was rumored, in- 
deed, that Dr. Dymond, now an LL. D. of the Lackawanna 
University, had commenced life as a chair-maker in Con- 
necticut. 

So my school-life went on. The summer passed away, 
and the autumn, and the second winter. My mental 
growth was so evident, that, although the expenses of the 
school proved to be considerably more than had been 
estimated, my mother could not think of abridging the full 
time she had assigned to my studies. The money was 
forthcoming, and she refused to tell me whence it came. 
" You shall help me to pay it back, Johnny," was all she 
would say. 

I believed, at least, that she was not overtasking her own 
strength in the effort to earn it. There was but limited 
employment for her needle in so insignificant a place as 
the Cross-Keys, and she was, moreover, unable at this time 
to do as much as formerly. The bright color, I could not 
help noticing, had faded from her face, and was replaced 
by a livid, waxen hue ; thick streaks of gray appeared in 
her dark puffs, and her round forehead, once so smooth, 
began to show lines which hinted at concealed suffering. 
She confessed, indeed, that she had " spells of weakness " 
now and then ; " but," she added, with a smile which reas- 
sured me, "it's nothing more than I've been expecting. 
We old people are subject to such things. There 's Neigh- 
bor Niles, now, — to hear her talk, you would think she 
never had a well day in her life, yet what a deal of work 
she does ! " 

This was true. Our good neighbor was never free from 
some kind of " misery," as she expressively termed it. One 
day she would have it in the small of the back ; then it 
would mount to a spot between the shoulder-blades ; next, 



62 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

perhaps, she would find it in her legs, or elbows, or even 
on the top of her head. After a day of hard scrubbing, 
she would run over to our cottage, drop into mother's rock- 
ing-chair, and exclaim, " I feel ' j^owerful weak ; the mis- 
ery 's just got into every bone o' my body." 

Thus, though at times I noticed with apprehension the 
change in my mother's appearance, the feeling was speedily 
dismissed. My own prospects were so secure, so glowing, 
that any shadow of unwelcome change took from them an 
illuminated edge as it approached. But there came, in the 
beginning of summer, one Sunday, when a strange, restless 
spirit seemed to have entered the cottage. Every incident 
of that day is burned upon my memory in characters so 
legible that to recall them brings back my own uncompre- 
hended pain. The day was hot and cloudless : every plant, 
bush, and tree rejoiced in the perfect beauty of its new 
foliage. The air was filled, not with any distinct fragrance, 
but with a soft, all-pervading smell of life. Bees were 
everywhere, — in the locust-blossoms, in the starry tulip- 
trees, on the opening pinks and sweet-williams of the gar- 
den ; and the cat-bird sang from a bursting throat, on his 
perch among the reddening mayduke cherries. The har- 
mony of such a day is so exquisite that the discord of a 
mood which cannot receive and become a portion of it is a 
torture scarcely to be borne. 

This torture I first endured on that day. What I feared 
— whether, in fact, I did fear — I could not tell. A vague, 
smothering weight lay upon my heart, and, though I could 
not doubt that mother shared the same intolerable anxiety, 
it offered no form sufficiently tangible for expression. She 
insisted on my reading from the Psalms, as usual when we 
did not go to church, but interrupted me every few min- 
utes by rising from her seat and going into her own room, 
or the kitchen, or the garden, without any clear reason. 
Sometimes I caught her looking at me with eyes that so 
positively spohe that I asked, involuntarily, "Mother, did 



.JOIiX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 63 

you say anything ? " Then a faint color would come into 
her face, which had lost none of its roundness, so that she 
suddenly seemed to be her old, bright, cheerful self. 

" I believe I was going to say something, Johnny," she 
would answer, " but it can't make much odds what it was, 
for I've forgotten it already." 

As the day wore on, her restlessness increased. When 
it was necessary for her to leave the room, on some house- 
hold errand, she would call to me, soon afterwards, " John- 
ny, are you there ? " or come back to the room in flushed 
haste, as if fearful of some impending catastrophe. She 
prepared our tea with a feverish hurry, talking all the time 
of my hunger (though I had not the least) and my appe- 
tite, and how pleasant it was to have me there, and how 
she always looked forward to Sunday evening, and how 
fast the time had gone by, to be sure, since I first went to 
Dr. Dymond's school, and what progress I had made, and 
she wished she could send me to college, but it could n't 
be, no, there was no use in thinking of it — with such 
earnestness and so many repetitions that I became at last 
quite confused. Yet, when we sat down to the table she 
became silent, and her face resumed its waxen pallor. 

During the evening she still talked about the school, 
and what I should do the following winter, afler leaving it. 
" Perhaps Dr. Dymond might want an assistant," she said ; 
"you're young, John, it's true, but I should think you 
could do as well as TTalton, and then you could still study 
between whiles. I wouldn't have you mention it — the 
idea just came into my head, that 's all. If you were only 
two years older ! I 'm sure I 'd keep you there longer if I 
could, but " 

" Don 't think of that, mother ! " I interrupted ; " we 
really can't afford it." 

" No, we can't," she sighed, " not even if I was to give 
up the cottage and go somewhere as housekeeper. I did 
think of that, once, but it 's too late. Well, you '11 have the 
two years I promised you, Johnny." 



64 JOHN GODfEEY'S FORTUNES. 

Much more she said to the same purport, interrupting 
herself every now and then with, " Stop, there was some- 
thing else I had to say ! " — which, when recalled, generally 
proved to be something already mentioned. 

When I went to bed, I lay awake for a long time, trying 
to explain the singular unrest which had come upon the 
house. It finally occurred to me that mother had probably 
gotten into some trouble on account of the expense of my 
schooling. I could hear her, in the room below me, w 
ing about uneasily, opening and shutting drawers, tallMUg 
to herself, it seemed. Once or twice something like a 
smothered groan reached my ear. I resolved that the fol- 
lowing Sunday should not go by without my knowing to 
what extent she had drawn upon her resources for my 
sake, and that the drain should be stopped, even if I had 
to give up the remainder of iTiy summer ten,'. After con- 
gratulating myself on this heroic resolution, I fell asleep. 

Wlien I came down stairs in the morning, I found that 
breakfast was already prepared. Mother seemed to have 
recovered from her restless, excited condition, but lier eye- 
lids were heavy and red. SI Z^' frssed Ihat she had 
passed a sleepless night. Wl '^ "'• ir; ^y itciia., 

hail from the road, I kissed h ad-bye. She 

returned my kiss silently, and a*. q.. ^ into her bed- 
room as I passed out the door. 

The vague weight at my heart left me that morning, to 
return and torment me during the next two days. It .was 
but a formless shadow, — the very ghost of a phantom, — 
but it clung to and dulled every operation of my mind, 
muffled every beat of my heart. 

Wednesday evening, I recollect, was heavy and overcast, 
with a dead, stifling hush in the atmosphere. The tension 
of my unnatural mood was scarcely to be endured any 
longer. Oh, if this be life, I thought, let me finish it now ! 
There was not much talk in our attic that night : the other 
boys tumbled lazily into bed and soon slept. I closed my 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUXES. 65 

eyes, but no sleep came. The constriction about my heart 
crept up towards my throat and choked me. I clenched 
my hands and ground my teeth ; the muscles of my face 
twitched, and with a spasm wliich shook me from head to 
foot and took away my breath, 1 burst into a passion of tears. 
I hid my head under the bedclothes, and strove to stifle the 
gasps that threatened to become cries — to subdue the 
violence of the crisis which had seized me. Penrose was 
such a quiet bedfellow that I forgot his presence until I 
felt that he was turning over towards me. Then, thor- 
oughly alarmed, I endeavored to lie still and counterfeit 
sleep : but it was impossible. I could no longer control 
the sobs that shook my body. 

Presently Penrose stirred again, thrust himself down in 
the bed, and I heard his voice under the clothes, almost at 
my ear. 

" Godfrey," he whispered, with a tender earnestness, 
" what is the matter ? " 

" My mother ! " was all the answer I could make. 

" Is she sick — dangerous ? " he whispered again, laying 
one arm gently over my shoulder. Its very touch was 
soothing and comforting. 

" I don't know, Penrose," I said at last. " Something is 
the matter, and I don't know what it is. Mother has a hard 
time to raise money for my schooling : I am afraid it 's too 
hard for her. I did n't mean to cry, but it came all at once. 
I think I should have died if it had n't." 

He drew me towards him as if I had been a little child, 
and laid my head against his shoulder. " Don't be afraid," 
he then whispered, " no one has heard you but myself. We 
are all so, at times. I recollect your mother ; she is a good 
woman ; she reminds me, somehow, of mine." 

My right hand sought for Penrose's, which it held firmly 
clasped, and I lay thus until my agitation had subsided. A 
grateful sense of sympathy stole into my heart ; the strange 
mist which seemed to have gathered, blotting out my fu- 



66 JOH^ GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

ture, began to lift before a breeze which blew from the 
stronger nature beside me. At last, with a final pressure, 
which was answered, I released his hand and turned to my 
own pillow. Next morning he was silent as ever, but his 
silence no longer repelled or annoyed me. I was beginning 
to learn that the heart lies much deeper than the lips. 

In the afternoon Dr. Dymond was called into the recep- 
tion-room. I paid no attention to this circumstance, for it 
was of frequent occurrence, but when he opened the door 
directly afterwards and called " Godfrey ! " I started as if 
struck. Penrose darted a glance of keen, questioning in- 
terest across the intervening desk, and I felt that his eye 
was following me as I walked out of the school-room. 

I was quite surprised to find " Old Dave," as we gener- 
ally called him, — Neighbor Niles's husband, — waiting for 
me. He was standing awkwardly by the table, his battered 
beaver still upon his head. 

" Well, Johnny," said he, giving me his hand, which felt 
like a piece of bark dried for tanning, " are you pretty well ? 
I 've come for to fetch you home, because, you see — well, 
your mother — she 's ailin' some, that is, and so we thought 
the Doctor here 'd let you off for a day or two." 

" Of course, sir," Dr. Dymond bowed. " Godfrey, this 
gentleman has explained to me the necessity of allowing 
you to be absent for a short time during the term. I sin- 
cerely regret the occasion which calls for it. You need not 
return to the school-room. Good-bye, for the present ! " 

I took his hand mechanically, ran up-stairs and brought 
my little carpet-bag, and was very soon seated at Niles's 
side, bouncing down the lane in a light, open wagon. 

" I took the brown mare, you see," he said, as we turned 
into the highway. " She 's- too free for the old woman to 
drive, but she knows my hand. This is Reanor's machine : 
he lent it to me at once't. Rolls easy, don't it ? " 

" But, Dave ! " I cried, in an agony of anxiety, " you have 
not told me what has happened to mother ! " 



JOIiX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 67 

He fidgeted uneasily on his seat, addressed various re- 
marks to the brown mare, and finally, when my patience 
was almost exhausted, said, in a confused way, " Well, you 
see, it has n't jist happened altogether now. 'Pears it 's 
beei> comin' on a go6d while, — a year or two, maybe 
more. The Doctor says it ought to ha' been done sooner, 
but I don't wonder much if she could n't make up her mind 
to it." 

My distress increased with every one of these slowly 
drawled, incoherent sentences. " For God's sake," I ex- 
claimed, " tell me Avhat ails her ! " 

Dave started at my vehemence, and blurted out the 
dreadful truth at once. " Cancer ! " said he : " they cut it 
out, yisterday — Dr. Rankin, and Dr. Lott, here, in Honey- 
brook. They say she bore it oncommon, but she 's mighty 
low, this mornin'." 

I turned deathly sick and faint. I could not utter a word, 
but wrung my hands together and groaned. Dave pulled 
a small, fiat bottle out of his breast-pocket, drew the cork 
with his teeth, and held the mouth to my lips, saying, 
" Take a swaller. You need n't say anything about it be- 
fore the old woman." 

The fluid fire w^hich went down my throat partially re- 
stored me ; but the truth was still too horrible to be fully 
comprehended. In spite of the glowing June-day, a chill 
struck to the marrow of my bones, as I thought of my poor, 
dear little mother, mangled by surgeons' knives, and per- 
haps at that very moment bleeding to death. Then a bitter 
feeling of rage and resistance took possession of my heart. 
" Why does- God allow such things ? " cried the inward 
voice : " why make her suffer such tortures, who was always 
so pure and pious, — who never did harm to a single creat- 
ure ? " The mystery of the past four days was now clear 
to me : but how blind the instinct that predicted misfortune 
and could not guess its nature ! If mother had but told 
me, or I had not postponed the intended explanation ! It 



68 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

was now too late : I dared not chide her who had endured 
so fearfully. If any such thought arose, I asked pardon for 
it of the same God I had accused a moment before. But 
the Recording Angel does not open his book for the blind 
words of the young. 

Dave had been talking, I suppose, but I was unconscious 
of his words. Now that the truth had been told, he was 
ready enough to give all the particulars, and even attempt, 
in his rough way, to administer consolation. 

" You must n't take on so," he said, patting me on the 
knee ; " maybe she '11 git well, after all. While there 's life 
there 's hope, you know. Some has been cured that 
seemed jist about as bad as they could be. The wust of 
cancer is, it mostly comes back agin. It 's like Canada 
thistles : you may dig trenches round 'em, and burn 'em, 
and chop the roots into mince-meat, and like as not you 've 
got 'em next year, as thick as ever." 

His words made me shudder. "Please go on fast, 
Dave," I entreated ; " never mind telling me any more ; I 
want to get home." 

" So do I," he answered, urging the mare into a rapid 
trot. " I did n't much keer to come, but there was nobody 
else handy, and th' old woman said you must be fetched, 
right away." 

As we approached the cottage. Neighbor Niles came out 
and waited for us at the gate. Her eyes were red, and they 
began to flow again when I got down from the wagon. 
She wiped them with her apron, took me by the hand, and 
said, in a whisper louder than the ordinary voice of most 
women, — 

" I '11 go in and tell her you 're here. Wait outside un- 
til I come back. The Doctor 's with her." 

It was not long before she returned, followed by Dr. 
Rankin. I knew him, from the days of my sprained ankle, 
and was passing him with a hasty greeting, when he seized 
me by the arm. " Control yourself, my boy ! " said he ; 
" she must not be excited." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 69 

I walked into the bedroom. It was very well to say, 
" Control yourself ! " but the sight of my mother, with half- 
closed eyes, her face as white as the pillow beneath it, so 
unnerved me that I sank, trembling, upon the chair at the 
head of the bed, and wept long and bitterly. I felt her 
fingers upon my hair : " Poor boy ! " she sighed. 

" Oh, mother ! " I cried, " why did n't you tell me ? " 

" 'T would have done no good, Johnny," she feebly 
answered. " I was glad to know that you were unconscious 
and happy all the time. Besides, it 's only this spring that 
I grew so much worse. I tried to bear up, my dear child, 
that I might see you started in life ; but I am afraid it 's 
not to be." 

" Don't say that, mother. I can't live without you." 

" I have lived ten years without your father, child, — and 
they were not unhappy years. God does not allow us to 
1 grieve without ceasing. You will have some one to love, 
/ as I have had you. You will soon be a man, and if I 
I should live, it would be to see some one nearer to you than 
' I am. I pray that you may be happy, John ; but you will 
not forget your old mother. ^Ylien j'ou have children of 
your own upon your knees, you will talk to them some- 
times — will you not ? — of the Grandmother Godfrey who 
died before she could kiss and bless them for your sake ? " 

Her own tears flowed freely as she ceased to speak, 
exhausted, and paused to recover a little strength. " I 've 
been blessed," she said at last, " and I must not complain. 
You 've been a good boy, Johnny ; you 've been a dutiful 
and affectionate son to me. You 're my joy and my pride 
now, — it can't be wrong for me to take the comfort God 
sends. There would be light upon the way I must go, if I 
knew that you could feel some of the resignation which I 
have learned." 

" Mother," I sobbed, " I can't be resigned to lose you. I 
will stay with ycu, and take care of you. I should never 
have gone away to school, — but I thought only of my- 
self!" 



70 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Her face was suddenly touched with a solemn beauty, 
and her gentle voice had a sacred authority which I ac- 
cepted as if it had truly spoken across the mysterious gulf 
which was soon to separate us. " My dear child," she said, 
" listen to me. I know how you feel in this moment. I 
can foresee that you may torture yourself after I am gone 
with the recollection of this or that duty omitted, of some 
hasty word spoken, perhaps some impatient thought wliich 
merely passed through your mind. After your father died, 
I called aloud, in anguish and prayer, for his spirit to speak 
down from heaven and forgive me all things wherein I had 
failed of my duty towards him. But I know now that the 
hnperfections' of our conduct here, are not remembered 
against us, if the heart be faithful in its love. If you were 
ever undutiful in word or thought, the sun never went 
down and left you unforgiven. Remember this, and that 
all I have tried to do for you has been poor payment for 
the blessing you have always been to me ! " 

Blessed words, that fell like balm on my overwhelming 
sorrow ! I took them to my heart and held them there, as 
if with a presentiment of the precious consolation they 
were thenceforth to contain. I pressed her pale hand ten- 
derly, laid my cheek upon it, and was silent, for it seemed 
to me that an angel was indeed present in the little room. 

After a while, Neighbor Niles softly opened the door, 
drew near, and whispered, "Mr. Woolley 's here — from 
Readin' ; — shall I bring him in ? " 

My mother assented. 

I had not seen my uncle for some years, and retained 
but an indistinct recollection of his appearance. He had 
been sent for, early in the morning, at my mother's urgent 
request, as I afterwards learned. When the door opened, 
I saw a portly figure advancing through the gathering dusk 
of the room, bend over my head towards my mother, and 
say, in a husky voice, " How do you feel, Barbara ? " 

" I am very weak," mother replied. " This is John, 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 71 

Amos. John, shake hands with your uncle, and then leave 
me for a little while. I have something to say to him." 

I rose. A fat hand closed upon mine, and again I heard 
the husky voice, " Well, really, as tall as this ? I had no 
idea, Barbara." 

I do not know whether he was aware of my mother's 
condition. Perhaps not ; but it was impossible for me, at 
the moment, to credit him with the doubt. To my ear, his 
words expressed a cruel coldness and indifference ; and I 
went forth from the room with a spark of resentment 
already kindled in the midst of my grief I threw myself 
into my accustomed seat by the front window, and gave 
myself up to the gloomy chaos of my emotions. 

Neighbor Niles was preparing the table for supper, 
stopping now and then to wipe her eyes, and ''sniffling" 
with a loud, spasmodic noise, which drove me nearly to dis- 
traction. My excited nerves could not bear it. Once she 
put down a plate of something, crossed the room to my 
chair, and laid her hand on my shoulder. "Johnny," — 
she began — 

" Let me be ! " I cried, fiercely, turning away from her 
with a jerk. 

The good woman burst into fresh tears, and instantly 
left me. " Them 's the worst," I heard her mutter to her- 
self; "I 'd ruther he 'd half break his heart a-cryin'." 
And, indeed, I was presently sorry for the rude way in 
which I had repelled her sympathy, though I could not 
encourage her to renew it. 

Supper was delayed, nearly an hour, waiting for my 
uncle. When he appeared, it was with a grave and sol- 
emn countenance. I took my seat beside him very reluc- 
tantly : it seemed dreadful to me to eat and drink while my 
mother might be dying in the next room. Neighbor Niles, 
however, would hear of nothing else. She had already 
lifted the tea-pot, in her haste to serve us, when my uncle 
suddenly bowed his head and commenced a grace. Neigh- 



72 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

bor Niles was so confused that she stood with the tea-pot 
■siisi3ended in the air until he had finished. I, who with 
difficulty swallowed a little tea, was shocked at the appetite 
he displayed, forgetting that he was human, and that it was 
a long drive from Reading. 

" I am afraid, John," he finally said, " that the Lord is 

about to chasten you. It is some comfort to know that 

your mother seems to be in a proper frame of mind. Her 

ways were never the same as mine, but it is not too late, 

even at the eleventh hour, to accept the grace which is 

. freely offered. It is not for me to judge, but I am hopeful 

; that she will be saved. I trust that you will not delay to 

] choose the safe and the narrow path. Do you love your 

Saviour ? " 

" Yes," I answered, — somewhat mechanically, I fear. 

" Are you willing to give up everything and follow 
Him?" 

" Uncle Amos," I said, " I wish you would n't ask me 
any more questions." I left the table, and stole quietly 
into mother's room. As I w^as passing out of the door I 
heard Neighbor Niles say, " This is no time to be preachin' 
at the poor boy." 

That night my uncle took possession of my bed in the 
attic. I refused to sleep, and the considerate nurse allowed 
me to watch with her. Mother's condition seemed to be 
stupor rather than healthy slumber. There was no recu- 
perative power left in her system, and the physician had 
already declared that she would not recover from the shock 
of the operation. He informed me, afterwards, that the 
strength of her system had been reduced, for years, by the 
lack of rich and nourishing food, — which circumstance, if 
it did not create the disease, had certainly very much accel- 
erated its progress. " She was not a plant that would 
thrive on a poor soil," he said, in his quaint way; "she 
ought to have been planted in fowl and venison, and 
watered with Port." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 73 

The long, long night dragged away, and when the black 
mass of the lilac-bush at the window began to glimmer in 
dusky green, and some awakening birds cheeped in the 
branches of the plum-tree, mother seemed to revive. I 
was shocked to see, in the wan light, how her round cheeks 
had already fallen in, and what a ghastly dimness dwelt in 
her dark eyes. The nurse administered some stimulating 
mixture, smoothed the pillow, and, obeying some tender 
instinct, left us together. ISIother's eyes called me to her ; 
I stooped down and kissed her lips. 

" John," she said, " I must tell you now, while I have 
strength, what your uncle and I have agreed upon. The 
money, you knoAv, is in his hands, and it is better that he 
should keep it in trust until you are of age. You are to 
stay at school until the fall. I borrowed the money of 
Mr. Rand. There is a mortgage on the house and lot, and 
the doctors must be paid : so all will be sold, except some 
little things that you may keep for my sake. When you 
leave school, your uncle will take you. He says you can 
assist in his store and learn something about business. 
Your aunt Peggy is my sister, you know, and it will be a 
home for you. I could n't bear to think that you must go 
among strangers. When you 're of age, you '11 have a 
little something to start you in the world, and if my bless- 
ing can reach you, it will rest upon you day and night." 

The prospect of living with my uncle was not pleasant, 
but it seemed natural and proper, and not for worlds would 
I have deprived the dear sufferer of the comfort which sh6 
drew from this disposition of my fortunes. She repeated 
her words of consolation, in a voice that grew fainter and 
more broken, and then lay for a long time silent, with her 
hand in mine. Once again she half opened her eyes, and, 
while a brief, shadowy smile flitted about her lips, whispered 
" Johnny ! " 

" I am here, with you, mother," I said, fondling the list- 
less hand. 



74 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

She did not reply: this was the last sign of conscious- 
ness she gave. The conquered life still lingered, hour 
after hour, as if from the mere mechanical habit of the 
bodily functions. But the delicate mechanism moved more 
and more slowly, and, before sunset, it had stopped forever. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 75 



CHAPTER VI. 

IN WHICH I DISCOVER A NEW RELATIVE. 

"Why should I enter into all the dreary details of the 
funeral preparations, — of those black summer days, which 
still lie, an unfaded blot, in the soft and tender light of 
resignation now shining over my sorrow ? I passed through 
the usual experience of one struck by sudden and bitter 
calamity : my heart was chilled and benumbed by its inabil- 
ity to comprehend the truth. My dull, silent, apathetic 
mood must have seemed, to the shallow-judging neighbors, 
a want of feeling ; only Neighbor Niles and her husband 
guessed the truth. I saw men and women, as trees, come 
and go ; some of them spoke to me, and when I was forced 
to speak in turn, it was with painful unwillingness. I 
heard my voice, as if it were something apart from myself; 
I even seemed, through some strange extraverted sense, to 
stand aside and contemplate my own part in the solem- 
nities. 

When I look back, now, I see a slender youth, dressed 
in an ill-fitting black suit, led through the gate in the low 
churchyard wall by my uncle Woolley. It is not myself; 
but I feel at my heart the numb, steady ache of his, which 
shall outlast a sharper grief His eyes are fixed on the 
ground, but I know — for I have often been told so — that 
they are like my mother's. His hair cannot be described 
by any other color than dark auburn, and hangs, long and 
loose, over his ears; his skin is fair, but very much 
freckled, and his features, I fancy, would wear an earnest, 
eager expression in any happier mood. I see this boy as 



76 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

some mysterious double of mine, standing, cold and pale, 
beside the open grave ; but the stupor of his grief is harder 
to bear, even in memory, than the keen reality to which I 
afterwards awoke. 

I let things take their course, kno^ving that the circum- 
stances of my immediate future were already arranged. 
My uncle WooUey, as my guardian and the executor of my 
mother's little estate, assumed, without consulting me, the 
disposal of the cottage and furniture. Mr. Rand purchased 
the former, as a convenient tenant-house for some of his 
farm-hands, and the latter, with the exception of mother's 
rocking-chair, which she bequeathed to Neighbor Niles, was 
sold at auction. This, however, took place after my return 
to the school, and I was spared the pain of seeing my home 
broken to pieces and its fragments scattered to the winds. 
My uncle probably gave me less credit for a practical com- 
prehension of the matter than I really deserved. His first 
conversation with me had been unfortunate, both in point 
of time and subject, and neither of us, I suspect, felt in- 
clined, just then, to renew the attempt at an intimacy befit- 
ting our mutual relation. 

In a few days I found myself back again at Honeybrook 
Academy. The return was a relief, in every way. The 
knowledge of my bereavement had, of course, preceded me, 
and I was received with the half-reverential kindness which 
any pack of boys, however rough and thoughtless, will never 
fail to accord, in like circumstances. Miss Hitchcock, it is 
true, gave me a moment's exasperation by her awkward at- 
tempt at condolence, quoting the hackneyed '■^ pallida mors" 
&c., but Mother Dymond actually dropped a few tears from 
her silly eyes as she said, " I 'm so sorry, Godfrey ; I quite 
took to her that time she was here." 

Penrose met me with a long, silent pressure of the hand, 
and the stolid calm with which I had heard the others 
melted for the first time. My eyes grew suddenly dim, and 
I turned away. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 77 

I had already profited by nearly two years' experience of 
human nature, or, rather, boy-nature, and was careful not 
to let my knowledge of his sympathy lead me into advances 
which might, notwithstanding all that had happened, be 
repelled. I had a presentiment that he esteemed me be- 
cause I imitated his own reticence, and that he was sus- 
picious of any intimacy which did not proceed from himself. 
In spite of his beauty, which seemed to be dimly felt and 
respected by the whole school, and the tender spot in my 
heart, kindling anew whenever I recalled the night he had 
taken me to his breast, I was not sure that I could wholly 
like and trust him — could ever feel for him the same open, 
unquestioning affection which I bestowed, for example, on 
Bob Simmons. 

In my studies I obtained, at least, a temporary release 
from sorrow. The boys found it natural that I should not 
join in the sports of play-hours, or the wild, stolen expedi- 
tions in which I had formerly taken delight. When I closed 
my Lempriere and Leverett, I wandered off to the nearest 
bit of woodland, flung myself on the brown moss under 
some beech-tree, and listened idly to the tapping of the 
woodpecker, or the rustle of squirrels through the fallen 
leaves. 

There was a little shaded dell, in particular, which was 
my favorite haunt. A branch of Cat Creek (as the stream 
in the valley was called) ran through it, murmuring gently 
over stones and dead tree-trunks. Here, in moist spots, 
the trillium hung its crimson, bell-like fruit under the hori- 
zontal roof of its three broad leaves, and the orange orchis 
shot up feathery spikes of flowers, bright as the breast of 
an oriole. In the thickest shade of this dell, a large tree 
had fallen across the stream from bank to bank, above a 
dark, glassy trout-pool. One crooked branch, rising in the 
middle, formed the back of a rough natural chair ; and hither 
I came habituallv, brindng some work borrowed from Dr. 
Dymond's library. I remember reading there Mrs. He- 



78 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

mans's " Forest Sanctuary," with a delight which, alas ! the 
poem can never give again, even with such accessories. 

One day I was startled from my book by hearing the 
dead twigs on the higher bank snap under the step of some 
one descending into the glen. I looked up and saw Pen- 
rose coming leisurely down, cutting now and then at a wood- 
moth or dragon-fly with a switch of leather-wood. Almost 
at the same moment he espied me. 

" Hallo, Godfrey ! Are you there ? " he said, turning 
towards my perch. " You show a romantic taste, ujDon my 
word ! " 

The irony, if he meant it for such, went no further. The 
mocking smile vanished from his lips, and his face became 
grave as he sprang upon the log and took a seat carelessly 
against the roots. For a minute he bent forward and looked 
down into the glassy basin. 

" Pshaw ! " said he, suddenly, striking the water with his 
switch, so that it seemed to snap like the splitting of a real 
mirror, — " only my own face ! I 'm no Narcissus." 

" You could n't change into a flower, with your complex- 
ion, anyhow," I remarked. 

" Curse my complexion ! " he exclaimed ; " it 's a kind 
that brings bad blood, — my father has it, too ! " 

I was rather startled at this outbreak, and said nothing. 
He, too, seemed to become conscious of his vehemence. 
" Godfrey," he asked, " do you remember your father ? 
"What kind of a man was he ? " f 

" Yes," I answered, " I remember him very well. I was 
eight years old when he died. He was quiet and steady. 
I can't recall many things that he said ; but as good 
and honest a man as ever lived, I believe. If he had n't 
been, mother could n't have loved him so, to the very end 
of her life." 

" I have no doubt of it," he said, after a pause, as if 
speaking to himself; "there are such men. I 'm sorry you 
lost your mother, — no need to tell you that. You 're go- 



JOIIX GODFnF.Y'S FORTUNES. 79 

ing to leave school at the end of the term. Where will 
you go ? You have other relations, of course ? " 

Encouraged by the interest which Penrose showed in my 
condition, I related to him what had been decided upon by 
my mother and my uncle, without concealing the unfavora- 
ble impression which the latter had made upon me, or my 
distaste at the prospect before me. 

" But you must have other aunts and uncles," he said, 
" or relatives a little further oflP. On your father's side, for 
instance ? " 

" I suppose so," I answered ; " but they never visited 
mother, and I shall not hunt them up now. Aunt Peggy is 
mother's only living sister. Grandfather Ilatzfeld had a 
son, — my uncle John, after whom I was named, — l^ut he 
never married, and died Ions: aoro." 

" Ilatzfeld ? Was your mother's name Hatzfeld ? " 

"Yes." 

Penrose relapsed into a fit of silence. " It would be 
strange," he said to himself; then, lifting his head, asked : 

" Had your grandfather Hatzfeld brothers and sisters ? " 

" Oh, yes. Aunt Christina was his sister : she left mother 
our little place at the Cross-Keys when she died. Now, I 
recollect, I have heard mother speak of another aunt, Anna, 
who married and settled somewhere in New Jersey ; I for- 
get her name, — it began with D. Grandfather had an 
older brother, too, but I think he went to Ohio. Mother 
never talked much about him : he did n't act fairly towards 
grandfiither." 

" D ? " asked Penrose, with a curious interest. " Would 
you know the name if you were to hear it ? Was it Den- 
ning ? " 

" Yes, that 's it ! " I exclaimed ; " why, how could you 
guess " — 

" Because Anna Denning was my grandmother — my 
mother's mother ! When you mentioned the name of Hatz- 
feld, it all came into my mind at once. T\liy, Godfrey, 



80 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

your mother and mine were first cousins, — we are cousins, 
therefore ! " 

He sat upright on the log and stretched out his hand, 
which I took and held. " Penrose ! " I exclaimed, " can it 
be possible ? " 

" Plain as a pike-staff." 

" Oh, are you serious, Penrose ? I can hardly believe it." 

I still held his hand, as if the newly -found relationship 
might slip away on releasing it. The old mocking light 
came into his eyes. 

" Do you want me to show the strawberry-mark on my 
left arm ? " he asked ; " or a mole on my breast, with three 
long black hairs growing out of it ? Cousins are plenty, 
and you may n't thank me for the discovery." 

" I am so glad ! " I cried ; " I have no cousin : it is the 
next thing to a brother ! " 

His face softened again. " You 're a good fellow, God- 
frey," said he, " or Cousin John, if you like that better. 
Call me Alexander, if you choose. Since it is so, I wish I 
had known it sooner." 

" If my poor mother could have known it ! " I sighed. 

" That 's it ! " he exclaimed, — " the family likeness be- 
tween your mother and mine. It puzzled me when I saw 
her. My mother has been dead three years, and there 's 
a — I won't say what — in her place. As you 're one of 
the family now, Godfrey, you may as well learn it from me 
as from some one else, later. My father and mother did n't 
live happily together ; but it was not her fault. While she 
lived, my sister and I had some comfort at home ; she has 

it yet, for that matter, but I There 's no use in going 

over the story, except this much : it was n't six months after 
my mother's death before my father married again. Mar- 
ried whom, do you think ? His cook ! — a vulgar, brazen 
wench, who sits down to the table in the silks and laces of 
the dead ! And worse than that, — the marriage brought 
shame with it, — if you can't guess what that means, now, 



JOHN G'ODFKEY'S fortunes. 81 

you '11 find out after a while ; don't ask me to say anything 
more ! I am as proud as my mother was, and do you think 
I could forgive my father this, even if he had not always 
treated me like a brute ? " 

Penrose's eyes flashed through the indignant moisture 
which gathered in them. The warm olive of his skin had 
turned to a livid paleness, and his features were hard and 
cruel. I was almost afraid of him. 

" He to demand of me that I should call her * mother ' ! " 
he broke out again, his lip quivering, blit not with tender- 
ness, — '' it was forbearance enough that I did not give her 
the name she deserved! And my sister, — but I suppose 
she is like most women, bent in any direction by anybody 
stronger than themselves. She stays at home, — no, not at 
home, but loith them, — and writes me letters full of very 
good advice. Oh, yes, she 's a miracle of wisdom ! She 's 
a young lady of twenty-one, and — and — The Cook finds 
it very convenient to learn fashionable airs of her, and how 
to eat, and to enter a room, and hold her fan, and talk with- 
out yelling as if at the house-maid, and all the rest of their 
damnable folly ! There ! How do you like being related 
to such a pleasant family as that ? " 

1 tried to stay the flood of bitterness, which revealed to 
me a fate even more desolate than my own. " Penrose," I 
said, — '* Cousin Alexander, you are so strong and brave, 
you can make your own way in the world, without their 
help. I 'm less able than you, yet I must do it. I don't 
know why God allows some things to happen, unless it 's to 
try us." 

"None of that!" he cried, though less passionately; 
" I 've worried my brain enough, thinking of it. I 've 
come to the conclusion that most men are mean, contemp- 
tible creatures, and their good or bad opinion is n't worth 
a curse. If I take care of myself and don't sink down 
among the lowest, I shall be counted honest, and virtuous, 
and the Lord knows what; but I sometimes think that, if 



-v 



82 JOHN GODFREY'S FO'rTUNES. 

there are such things as honesty and virtue, we must look 
for them among the dregs of society. The top, I know, is 
nothing but a stinking sciun." 

I was both pained and shocked at the cynicism of these 
utterances, so harshly discordant with the youth and the glo- 
rious physical advantages of my cousin. Yes ! the moment 
the new relation between us was discovered and accepted, 
it established the bond which I felt to be both natural and 
welcome. It interpreted the previous sensation which he 
had excited in my nature. Some secret sympathy had 
bent, like the hazel wand in the hand of the diviner, to 
the hidden rill of blood. But the kinship of blood is not 
always that of the heart. "A friend is closer than a 
brother," say the Proverbs; I did not feel sure that he 
could be the friend I needed and craved, but cousinship 
was a familiar and affectionate tie, existing without our vo- 
lition, justifying a certain amount of reciprocal interest, 
and binding neither to duties which time and the changes 
of life might render embarrassing. - The confidence which 
Penrose had reposed in me came, therefore, in some de- 
gree, as the right of my relationship. I had paid for it, in 
advance, by my own. 

Hence I was saved, on the one hand, from being drawn, 
during the warm, confiding outset of life, into a sneering 
philosophy, which I might never have outgrown, and on the 
other hand, from judging too harshly of Penrose's inherent 
character. It would do no good at present, I saw, to pro- 
test against his expressions ; so I merely said, — 

" You know more of the world than I do, Alexander ; 
but I don't like to hear you talk in that strain." 

" Perhaps you 're right, old fellow," said he ; " any way, 
I don't include you among the rabble. I might have held 
my tongue about my grandmother, if I had chosen ; but I 
guess you and I are not nearly enough related to fall out. 
There goes the bell ; pick up your Eclogues,, and come 
along!" 7 



JOHX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 83 

We went back to the scliool, arm in arm, talking famil- 
iarly. From that time forward the recognized, mysterious 
circle of Family enclosed us, and Penrose's manner towards 
me was commensurate with the change. Never demonstra- 
tive, never even positively affectionate, he stood at least on 
level ground with me, and there was no wall between us. 
The other boys, of course, noticed the difference in our 
relations, and it was not long before the inquisitive Thorn- 
ton said, — 

" I say. Pen, how is it that you 've got to calling Godfrey 
' John,' all at once ? " 

" Because he is my cousin." 

Thornton's eyes opened very wide. " The devil he is ! " 
he exclaimed. (Thornton was unnecessarily profane, be- 
cause he thought it made him seem more important.) 
"When did you find that out?" 

" It 's none of yonr business," said Penrose, turning on 
his heel. Thornton thereupon went off, and communicated 
the fact to the whole school in less than ten minutes. 

.After this, my cousin and I frequently walked out to the 
glen together. I was glad to see that the kinship, so inex- 
pressibly welcome to myself, was also satisfactory to him. 
His first fragmentary confidence was completed by the de- 
tails of his life, as he recalled them from time to time ; but 
his bitter, disappointed, unbelieving mood always came to 
the surface, and I began to fear that it had already prede- 
termined the character of his after-life. 

One day, when he had been unusually gloomy in his 
utterances, he handed me a letter, saying, " Read that." It 
was from his sister, and ran, as nearly as I can recollect, as 
follows : — 

" Street, Philadelphia. 

"My dear Brother, — Yours of the 10th is received. 
I am now so accustomed to your sarcastic style, that I al- 
ways know what to expect when I open one of your epis- 
tles. I wish you joy of your — well, I must say our new 



84 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

cousin, though I am sorry you did not let me know of the 
discovery before telling Mm. He must be gauche and un- 
presentable in a degree ; but then, I sujDpose, there 's no 
likelihood of his ever getting into our set. It is time your 
schooling was finished, so that I might have you for awhile as 
my chevalier. Between ourselves, I 'm raflier tired of going 
about TV'ith " (here the word " Mamma " had evidently been 
written and then blotted out) " Mrs. Penrose. Not but 
what she continues to improve, — only, I am never certain 
of her not committing some niaiserie, which quite puts me 
out. However, she behaves well enough at home, and I 
hope you will overcome your prejudice in the end, for my 
sake. When you know as much about Society as I do, you 
will see that it 's always best to smooth over what 's irrev- 
ocable. People are beginning to forget the scandal, since 
that aifair of Denbigh has given them something else to 
talk about. We were at Mrs. Delane's ball on Wednes- 
day ; I made her put on blue cut velvet, and she did not 
look so bad. Mrs. Vane nodded, and of course she was 
triumphant. I think Papa gives me the credit for all tl^at 
has been done, — I 'm sure I deserve it. It 's a race be- 
tween Mrs. P. and myself which shall have the new India 
shawl at Stokes's ; but I shall get it, because Mrs. P. knows 
that I could teach her to blunder awfully as well as to be- 
have correctl}^, and ivould do it, in spite of Papa's swearing, 
if she drives me to desperation. By the by, he has just 
come into the room, and says, ' You are writing to the cub, 
as usual, I suppose, Matilda.' So there you have him, to 
the life." 

There was much more, in the same style. I must have 
colored, with offended pride, on reading the opening lines, 
for on looking up, involuntarily, I saw my cousin smile, but 
so frankly and pleasantly that it instantly healed the wound 
his sister made. I confess the letter disgusted me ; but it 
was written by my own cousin also, and I did not dare to 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 85 

express to her brother what I felt. I handed the letter 
back to him in silence. 

" Come now, John," said he, — " out with the truth ! 
Would you not as lief be out of our family again ? " 

" Not while you are in it, Alexander," I replied. 



86 • JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER YIL 

IN WHICH UNCLE AND AUNT WOOLLEY TAKE CHARGE 
OF ME. 

As the close of my last term at the Honeybrook Acad- 
emy approached, I felt none of the eagerness for change, 
of the delight . in coming release from study, which would 
have been natural to a boy of my age. On the contrary, I 
grew more and more reluctant to leave a spot which was 
now so familiar, and to give up the advantages of instruc- 
tion at a time when I began to understand their impor- 
tance. Both Miss Hitchcock and Dr. Dymond were sorry 
to lose me, — the former because there was no other Latin 
pupil far enough advanced to read her expurgated Horace, 
and the latter because my original dialog-ues and speeches 
were beginning to constitute a feature in the semi-annual 
exhibitions. If, among the boys, I had contracted no 
strong, permanent friendship, I had at least encountered 
no more than transient enmities ; besides, I was getting to 
be one of the older and more conspicuous scholars, and 
thus enjoyed a certain amount of authority. 

It was hardest of all to part with Penrose. I could talk 
with him of my mother, — could ask his counsel, as a rela- 
tive, in regard to my proposed plans of life. The latter were 
still indefinite, it is true ; but they pointed towards teaching 
as a preliminary employment. Behind that crowded a 
host of ambitious dreams, upon which I secretly fed my 
mind. Penrose, however, was to leave the school in the 
spring, and I should therefore have lost him six months 
later, in any case. • 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 87 

On the last Sabbath before my departure, I walked over 
to the Cross-Keys, and spent the day with the Niles family. 
The shutters of the little .cottage were still closed ; I was 
glad of it. If strange faces had gazed from the windows, I 
should have passed with averted head ; but I could now 
stop and look over the paling, and peer under the boughs 
of the plum-tree for a glimpse of the gar^den in the rear. 
Weeds were growing apace, and in the narrow strip of the 
" front yard " I missed a dainty little rose-bush — mother's 
pet — which used to be covered with duninutive double 
crimson blossoms. Neighbor Niles always called it the 
" fi'penny-bit rose." I afterwards found it in the church- 
yard, so carefully transplanted that it was already blooming 
on mother's grave. It was not necessary to ask whose 
pious hand had placed it there. 

The good Neighbor and " Dave " gave me an honest and 
hearty welcome. She insisted on opening the best room, 
though I would have preferred the kitchen, where I could 
hear her cheery voice alternately from the vicinity of cook- 
stove, cupboard, and table. For dinner we had the plain, 
yet most bountiful fare of the country, and she heaped my 
plate far beyond my powers of eating, saying, with eveiy 
added spoonful, " I expect you 're half starved at the 
school." 

" Dr. Dymond does n't look as if he ett much, anyhow," 
Dave remarked, with a chuckle. 

" It seems quite nateral to have you here ag'in, Johnny," 
said the Neighbor. " Dear me ! to think how things has 
changed in the last two year. Poor Neighbor Godfrey ! — 
as good a woman as ever lived, though I say it to your face, 
— dead and gone, and you movin' away to Readin', like as 
not never to come back ag'in. "Well, you must n't forgit 
your old neighbors, them that 's always wished you well. 
Out of sight out of mind, they say ; but I guess it don't hold 
true with everybody, — leastways not with me. I can't 
git over thinkin' about Becky Jane yit : it comes on to me 



88 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

powerful hard sometimes. She 'd ha' been sixteen last 
August, if she 'd ha' lived. I often go up and scrub off her 
tombstone, and scrape the rust out o' the letters." 

" Oh, Neighbor Niles ! " I cried, " you asked me once to 
write a few lines to put on the stone. I '11 do it yet, before 
I leave." 

The good woman's face glowed with gratitude. " I '11 
see that it 's put on — whatever you write," she said, " if it 
takes the vally of every turkey I 've raised ! " 

I kept my promise. Four lines, containing a simile 
about a broken flower being laid beneath this sod* to bloom 
above in the garden of God, were sent to Neighbor Niles, 
and whoever takes the trouble to visit Cross-Keys church- 
yard will find them on Becky Jane's tombstone to this 
day. 

It was some twenty miles to Reading, and accordingly, 
on the day after the closing exhibition at the academy, a 
horse and light vehicle, despatched by my uncle, arrived to 
convey me to my new home. Nearly all the scholars were 
leaving for the autumn vacation, and my departure lost its 
solemnity in the hurry and confusion that prevailed. Pen- 
rose promised to correspond with me, and Charley Rand 
said, " Don't be astonished if you find me in Reading next 
summer." Mother Dymond gave me something wrapped 
up in a newspaper, saying, " Take it, now ; you '11 want 
them before you get there." "Them" proved to be six 
large and very hard ginger-cakes. My trunk — an old 
one, which had once belonged to my father — was tilted 
up on end in front of the seat, occasioning much misery 
both to my legs and the driver's ; and so I left Honey- 
brook, the magnificent tin cupola sparkling a final farewell 
as we dashed up the " Reading pike." 

The inevitable step having been taken, — the fibres I had 
put out during the second stage of my boyhood torn loose, 
— I began to speculate, with some curiosity, on the coming 
phase of my life. I found this^attraction at least : I should 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 89 

live in a much larger and more important town than I had 
ever visited — a town with a river, a canal, and a new rail- 
road. At the Cross-Keys, people always spoke of Reading 
as being inferior only, to Philadelphia, and one of the Hon- 
eybrook boys, Detweiler, hotly and constantly proclaimed 
its glories, to the discomfiture of Marsh, who was from Lan- 
caster. As the afternoon wore away, and the long miles 
slowly diminished down the teens, and then more slowly 
down the units, and the unsocial driver fell asleep every 
ten minutes, of which fact the horse took base advantage, 
I grew weary and impatient. My uncle's house became a 
less unwelcome terminus to the journey. 

At last we approached some bold hills — wonderful, as- 
tonishing mountains, I thought them. Our road stretched 
forward through a hollow between; a scattering village 
came into view, and a toll-gate barred the road. The 
driver awoke with a start. " Here 's Gibraltar ! " he said ; 
" we '11 soon be there, now ! " 

" Are those the Alleghany Mountains ? " I asked. 

" Guess you 're green in these parts," said he : " them 
a'n't mountains." 

" Well, what are their names ? " I asked again, in much 
humiliation. 

" This'n ha'n't no proper name, — ' Penn's Mount ' some 
call it. T' other, on the left, is Neversink. You '11 see 
Readin' in two minutes." 

We presently emerged upon a slope, whence a glorious 
landscape opened upon my eyes. Never had I seen or 
imagined anything so beautiful. The stately old town lay 
below, stretched at full length on an inclined plane, rising 
from the Schuylkill to the base of the mountain ; the river, 
winding in abrupt curves, disclosed itself here and there 
through the landscape ; hills of superb undulation rose and 
fell, in interlinking lines, through the middle distance, 
Scull's Hill boldly detaching itself in front, and far in the 
north the Blue Ridge lifted its dim wall against the sky. 



90 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

The sinking sun turned the smokes of the town and the 
vapors of the river to golden dust, athwart which faintly 
gleamed the autumn coloring of distant woods. The noises 
of the scene were softened and mellowed, and above them 
all, clear, sweet, and faint, sounded the bugle of a boatman 
on the canal. It was not ignorant admiration on my part ; 
for one familiar with the grandest aspects of Nature must 
still confess that few towns on this side of the Atlantic are 
so nobly environed. 

As we entered the place I could scarcely turn my head 
rapidly enough to the right and left, in my inspection of 
signs, houses, and people. The brick sidewalks seemed to 
be thronged, but nobody paid any particular attention to 
us. In Honeybrook every one would have stopped and 
looked at us, so long as we were in sight. The driver turned 
into the broad main avenue of Penn Street, with its central 
line of markets, then downward towards the river, and drew 
up, a few blocks further, at a corner. It was a low, old- 
fashioned brick house, with a signboard over the front door 
and window, upon which was inscribed, in faded letters, 
"A. Woollet's Grocery Store." There were boxes of 
candles, some bottles, a rope of onions, half a dozen with- 
ered lemons, and a few other articles in the window ; a 
woman was issuing from the door with a basket full of 
brown paper parcels on her arm. On the other side of the 
portly window a narrow door was squeezed into the wall. 
The driver, having alighted, jerked my trunk out of the 
wagon, brought it down with a crash on the upper step, and 
rang the bell. The door was opened by Aunt Peggy, in 
person : she had been one of the shadows which had haunted 
my mother's funeral, and I therefore recognized her. 

My trunk was brought in arfd stood on end in the nar- 
row passage, which it almost blocked up. " You won't want 
it before bedtime, T reckon," said my aunt ; " so leave it 
there, and Bolty will help you carry it up. Come into the 
settin'-room." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 91 

Following her I found myself presently in a small room 
behind the store. It was comfortably furnished, but some- 
what chill and unfriendly in its atmosphere, — stiff, almost, 
although nothing could have been less so than my aunf s 
appearance. She wore a limp calico dress, of some dark 
pattern, and a cap, the strings of which were untied and 
hung over her breast. Her face was long and thin, and her 
hair, many shades lighter than my mother's, fell in straight, 
lank lines over her ears. There was usually a tuft of it 
sticking: out somewhere about the back of her neck. Her 
eyes were small and gray, her nose long and pointed, and 
her lips thin and sunken at the corners, from the loss of 
most of her back teeth. Add to this a weak, lamenting 
voice, — rather, indeed, a whine, — and it will readily be 
conceived that my aunt Peggy was not a person to inspire 
a young man with enthusiasm for the female sex. Never 
were two sisters more unlike than she and mother. I pre- 
sume there must have been a family likeness somewhere, 
but I was really unable to discover it. 

In a few minutes Uncle Amos came in from the store. 
He shook hands with me with more cordiality than I had 
anticipated. " We '11 have things fixed, in the course of a 
day or two," he said. •" Now, Peggy, I guess you had bet- 
ter get tea ready : John will be hungry, after his ride. Will 
you come into the store, John, and look around a little ? " 

I preferred that to sitting alone in the back room. After 
stumbling over some coffee-bags, — for it was getting dusky, 
and the lamps were not yet lighted, — I came forth into the 
open space behind the counter, where a boy of my own age 
was very busily engaged in weighing and " doing up " vari- 
ous materials. Uncle Amos stepped forward to assist him, 
leaving me to play the spectator. For a little while, both 
were actively employed ; then, the rush of custom having 
suddenly subsided, my uncle said, " Here, Bolty, this is my 
nQphew, John Godfrey. John, this is my assistant, Bolty 
Himpel." 



92 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Bolty grinned and nodded, but said nothing. He was 
larger in every way than myself, but looked younger. His 
hair, so blond as to be almost white, was cut close to his 
head ; his forehead was low, his eyes large, wide apart, and 
pale blue ; his nose short, thick, and flattened in the middle, 
and his mouth large and partly open. He was of the pure 
peasant-blood of Southern Germany, his name, Bolty, be- 
ing simply a contraction of Leopold, with a little confusion 
of kindred consonants. I was a good deal surprised at my 
uncle's choice of an assistant, but I afterwards found that 
Bolty understood the business, and nothing else. His 
round, unmeaning face was a perpetual advertisement of 
simple honesty to the customers. He knew it, and profited 
thereby. Besides, he spoke fluently that remarkable lan- 
guage, the Pennsylvania German, — a useful accomplish- 
ment in a town where many native families were almost 
wholly ignorant of Enghsh. 

In a quarter of an hour my aunt whined out of the 
gloom at the back of the store, " Tea, Amos ! " and we 
obeyed the melancholy summons. The table was set in 
the kitchen behind the sitting-room, and so near the stove 
that Aunt Peggy could reach the hot water with her right 
hand, without rising from her chair.* The board looked 
very scantily supplied, to my eyes, accustomed to country 
profuseness, but there proved to be enough. 

After we were seated. Uncle Amos bent, or rather 
plunged forward, over his plate, waving his hands with the 
palms outward, before bringing them together in the atti- 
tude of prayer. There was a certain ostentation in this 
\ gesture, which struck me at once. It seemed to say, \ 
^ " Take notice, Lord : I am about to ask Thy blessing." ■ 
This was a very irreverent fancy of mine, I confess ; but 
there it was : I could n't help it. 

Most people — as we find them — would have considered 
Uncle Amos a man of imposing presence. He was both 
taU and stout, and the squareness in his outlines, both of 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 93 

head and body, suggested a rough, massive strength. His 
head was bald from the forehead to the crown, but the 
side-hair was combed upwards so as to overlap and par- 
tially conceal it. His eyes were hard, and shot forth a 
steely twinkle from under their fat lids ; the corners were 
channelled with a multitude of short, sly wrinkles. The 
skin of his cheeks was unpleasantly threaded here and 
there by fine, dark-purple veins, and always had a gloss 
like varnish when he was freshly shaven. I half suspect, 
now, that part of my instinctive dislike to him arose from 
the jar which his appearance occasioned to my sense of 
beauty. As a matter of conscience, I tried to like him ; 
but I am afraid the exertion was not very severe. 

After tea, I went back to the sitting-room, while my 
uncle took Bolty's place and allowed the latter to get his 
meal in turn. Then it was necessary to wait until the 
store should be closed for the night, and, to divert the 
time. Aunt Peggy brought me the " Life of Henry Martyn," 
which I read with hearty interest. " A good model," said 
my uncle, looking over my shoulder, as he came in, after 
the shutters had been duly fastened and bolted. 

" Shut it up now," he continued. " We go early to bed, 
and get up early, in this house. Bolty, come here, and 
help John up-stairs with his trunk." 

Bolty seized one end of the unwieldy box, and we slowly 
bumped and stumbled up two flights of stairs, into a large 
room under the roof, with a single ^vindow in the gable. I 
remarked, with a disagreeable sensation, that there was 
only one bed, and that one not remarkably broad. The 
big, coarse fellow would be sure to usurp the most of it, 
and his broad nose and open mouth indicated an immense 
capacity for snoring. Besides, I was always, from a very 
child, exceedingly sensitive to what I may call, for want of 
a better term, human electricity ; that is to say, certain 
persons attract me, or impart a sense of comfort, by their 
physical nearness, while others repel or convey an impres- 



94 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

sion of vague discomfort. This feeling seems to have no 
connection with beauty or ugliness, health or disease, or even 
affection or enmity. It arises from some subtle affinity of 
physical temperament, like that which we occasionally no- 
tice in the vegetable world. There are certain plants which 
flourish or droop in the neighborhood of certain others. I 
think this delicate, intangible sense is general among culti- 
vated persons, but I have never found it developed to the 
same extent as in my own case. 

I could not justly class Bolty Himpel among those 
strongly repellant natures whose approach to me was like 
that of a poisonous wind, but there was sufficient of the feel- 
ing to make the necessity of lying all night in his " atmos- 
phere " very distasteful. However, there was no help for 
it ; he had already asked me, — 

" Wliich side '11 you take ?" 

I chose that nearest the window, and soon fell asleep, 
wearied with the changing excitements of the day. It was 
not long, apparently, before the bedstead creaked and 
shook, and a loud voice yelled, " Tumble out ! " 

The dawn was glimmering through the window. *Bolty 
was already hauling on his trousers, and I rose and looked 
out. To my delight I could see the long, majestic outline 
of Penn's Mount above the houses, its topmost trees' mak- 
ing a dark fringe against the morning sky. The view be- 
came a part of my garret-furniture, and changed the aspect 
of the room at once. 

" Boss is pretty sharp," said Bolty to me, as I commenced 
dressing ; " he opens half an hour sooner and keeps open 
half an hour later than any other grocery in the town. 
'T a'n't a bad plan. People get to know it, and they come 
to us when they can't go nowhere else. It keeps us on the 
go, though. You ha'n't done nothin' at business, ha'n't 
you?" 

" No," I answered ; " I 've been at school. 'T was Uncle 
Amos's plan that T should come here, and I don't know 
how I '11 like it." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 95 

" Oh, you '11 soon git the hang of it. I don't s'pose he '11 
put you to rollin' o' bar'ls and openin' o' boxes. Y' a'n't 
built for that." 

Whereupon Bolty deliberately squeezed and twisted the 
muscles of my upper arm, in such wise that they were sore 
for the rest of the day. " That 's the crow-bar," said he, 
bending and stiffening his own right arm, until the flexor 
rose like an arch; "and them's the death-mauls," shak- 
ing his clenched fists. These expressions he had evidently 
picked up from some canal boatman. Their force and 
fierceness contrasted comically with the vacant good-humor 
written on his face. 

We went down to the shop and opened the shutters. 
There was little custom before breakfast, so I lounged 
about behind the counter, pulling open drawers of spices 
and reading the labels on bottles and jars. After all, I 
thought, there are more disagreeable avocations in the 
world than that of a grocer, — bricklaying, for instance. I 
determined to do my share of the work faithfully, whether 
I liked it or not. I was in my nineteenth year, and, at the 
worst, would be my own master at twenty-one. 

Bolty was right in his conjecture. He had not only more 
strength than myself, but greater mechanical dexterity, and 
consequently the heavy work fell to his share. My uncle, 
finding that I wrote a neat hand and was a good arithme- 
tician, gradually initiated me into the mysteries of day-book 
and ledger. I also assisted in waiting upon the customers, 
and in a few days became sufficiently expert at sliding 
sugar or coffee out of the scoop, so as to turn the scale by 
the weight of a grain or single bean, settling the contents 
in paper bags, and tying them squarely and compactly. My 
uncle was too shrewd a business-man to let me learn at the 
expense of customers : I was required to cover the counter 
with packages of various weights, the contents of which 
were afterwards returned to the appropriate bins or barrels. 
Thus, while I was working off my awkwardness, the grocery 



96 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

presented an air of unusual patronage to its innocent vis- 
itors. 

Many of our customers were farmers of the vicinity, who 
brought their eggs, butter, and cheese, to exchange for gro- 
ceries. This was a profitable part of the business, as we 
gained both in buying and selling. There was a great de- 
mand among these people for patent medicines, which 
formed a very important branch of my uncle's stock, and 
he could have found no better salesman than Bolty Himpel. 
The latter discovered, in an incredibly short time, from 
what neighborhood a new customer came, and- immediately 
gave an account of the relief which, somebody, living in an 
opposite direction, had derived from the use of certain pills 
or plasters. 

" Weakness o' the back, eh ? " he would say to some mel- 
ancholy-faced countrywoman ; " our Balm of Gilead 's the 
stuff for that. Only three levies a bottle ; rub it in with 
flannel, night and mornin'. Mr. Hempson — you know 
him, p'r'aps, down on Poplar Neck? — was bent double 
with the rheumatiz, and two bottles made him as straight 
as I am. Better take some o' the Peruvian Preventative, 
while you 're about it, ma'am, — keeps off chills and fevers. 
Deacon Dingey sent all the way down from Port Clinton 
t' other day for some : they don't keep it there. Lives in 
a ma'shy place, right on to the river, and they ha'n't had a 
chill in the family since they use 'em. I reckon we 've 
sold wheelbarra loads." 

I noticed, in the course of time, that Uncle Amos never 
interfered with Bolty's loquacity, unless (which happened 
very rarely) his recommendation was overdone and the cus- 
tomer became suspicious. Sometimes, indeed, he said, with 
a gravity not wholly natural, " Rather too strong. Don't 
tell more than you know." 

" Oh," Bolty would answer, " 't won't kill if it don't cure." 

This youth had an astonishing memory of names and 
faces, — a faculty in which, probably from want of practice, 



JOHN GODFKEY'S FOETUNES. • 97 

I was deficient. His German also made him indispensa- 
ble to many of the country people. My uncle possessed a 
jtolerable smattering of the language, and insisted that I 
should endeavor to learn it. " It 's more use than the hea- 
thenish Latin you learned in school," said he. 

"Why, Uncle Amos," I retorted, "I read Sacred His- 
tory in Latin." 

" Then it was n't the Word of God, which was inspired 
in Hebrew," he answered. 

I had determined to go on alone with my Latin studies, 
and his disapprobation of the language troubled me. I 
could not, as I proposed, bring the books down to the desk 
behind the counter, and devote the end of the evening to 
them, without incurring his pious censure. Against Ger- 
man he would have no such scruples, and I decided, though 
with regret, to take that language instead. I remembered 
that Grandfather Hatzfeld, who had been educated in 
Bethlehem, spoke it habitually, and that my mother re- 
tained her knowledge of it to the last. Among her books 
was an old edition of Herder and Liebeskind's " Palmblat- 
ter," which she had often read to me, as a child, and I had 
then understood. This early knowledge, however, had long 
since faded to a blank, but it left the desire to be renewed, 
and perhaps unconsciously smoothed the first difficulties of 
the study. 

I saw little of Aunt Peggy, except at meals and on Sun- 
days. Having never had any children of her own, she 
would scarcely have been able to assume a motherly atti- 
tude towards me ; but I do not think she tried. Her share 
in the conversation was generally of a discouraging cast, 
and the subject which most seemed to excite her interest 
was a case of backsliding which had recently occurred in 
my uncle's church. For several days the latter added to 
his tri-daily grace a prayer " that them which have forsaken 
the light may be brought back to it, and that them which 
wander in darkness may be led to seek it ! " He was un- 
7 



98 ■ JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

doubtedly sincere in this prayer, and I could have joined 
in it, had I not been suspicious enough to guess that the 
latter clause must be aimed at myself. 

On Sundays, Bolty and I went twice to church with my 
uncle and aunt, dutifully joining in the hymns, as I had 
been accustomed to do with my mother. I declined taking 
a class in the Sunday-school, much to my uncle's displeas- 
ure ; but, after being confined to the store all the week, I 
felt an urgent craving for a mouthful of fresh air and the 
freedom of the landscape. Sometimes I climbed high up 
the sides of Mount Penn, whence the brown tints of the 
coming winter vanished far off in delicious bkie ; but more 
frequently I walked northward to the knoll now covered 
by the Cemetery, and enjoyed the luxury of a wide look- 
out on all sides. In the evening, Bolty was allowed to visit 
his father, an honest, hard-working shoemaker, living on 
the eastern edge of the town, and I occasionally accompa- 
nied him. The family conversation was entirely in Ger- 
man, so that these visits were not much of a recreation, 
after all. 

I soon saw that the literary performances which had 
been my pride and delight at school must be given up, at 
least for the winter. There was no fire in the garret- bed- 
room, and I was not likely to be left in possession of the 
sitting-room behind the store more than once a month. 



JOmr GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 99 



; — 

' CHAPTER Vm. 

DESCRIBING CERTAIN INCIDENTS OF MY LIFE IN READING. 

The winter, having fairly set in, dragged on its monoto- 
nous round. During the cold weather there was less to 
do in the store, and I had frequent hours of leisure, which I 
passed on my high stool at the desk, reading such books as 
I could procure, and. a few which I bought. The sale of 
the cottage and furniture left a surplus of sixty-seven dol- 
lars, after paying the expenses of my mother's funeral and 
my last term at Dr. Dymond's. On making this statement, 
as my guardian, my uncle said, — 

" You don't need any more clothes this winter, and you 'd 
better let me put this out for you. You'll have no ex- 
penses here, as I count that what you do in the store will 
about balance your board." 

I greatly longed to Tiave the whole sum in my hands, but 
offered to let him " put out " fifty dollars and give me the 
remainder. He consented, though with an ill grace, say- 
ing, " It is n't good to give boys the means of temptation." 

I had never before had one tenth part as much money 
in my pocket, and it gave me a wonderfully comfortable 
feeling of wealth and independence. My first step was to 
buy an octavo volume, containing the poems of Milton, 
Young, Gray, Beattie, and Collins, every word of which I 
faithfully read. (I wonder whether anybody else ever did 
the same thing.) I also purchased a blank diary, with 
headings for every day in the year, and kept it in the breast- 
pocket of my coat, with fear and trembling lest it should 
be left lying where my uncle might find and read it. For 



100 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

a month or two the entries were very regular, then more 
and more fragmentary, and before smnmer they ceased 
altogether. The little volume, with its well-worn cover 
and embrowned paper, is now lying before me. I turn its 
pages with a smile at its extravagant sentiment and imma- 
ture reflections. Can it be that I really wrote such stuff 
as this ? — 

" Jan. 28. — Cold and cloudy — emblematic of my life. 
In the afternoon, gleams of sunshine, flashing like the 
wings of angels. Would I too could soar above these suh- 
lunary cares ! Read ' Childe Harold ' while uncle was 
out. Is it wrong to steal one's intellectual food ? No ; the 
famishing soul must have nourishment ! " 

As I became familiar with the routine of my duties, and 
Uncle Amos found that the accounts could be safely in- 
trusted to my care, he frequently left the store to Bolty 
and myself, and made short trips into the country for the 
purpose of procuring supplies and perfecting his system of 
exchange. In this way he snapped up many a pound of 
butter and dozen of eggs, which would have found their 
way to other groceries ; and during the season when those 
articles were rather scarce he was always well supplied, — 
a fact which soon became known and brought a notable 
increase of custom. He also went to Philadelphia, to make 
his purchases of the wholesale dealers in person, instead 
of ordering them by letter. We, of course, felt a greater 
responsibility during his absence, and were very closely 
confined to our duties. Bolty had no other ambition than 
to set up in business for himself, some day ; it was an aim 
he never lost sight of, and I was sure he would reach it. 
For my part, having been forced into my present position, 
I longed for the coming of the day which would release 
me, but I was too conscientious either to break loose from 
it or to slight my share of the labor. 

About the beginning of April, either from the close con- 
finement within-doors to which I had been subjected, or to 



JOriX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 101 

some change in my system, — for I was still growing, and 
had now attained the average height of men, — I was at- 
tacked with fever. The malady was not severe nor dan- 
gerous, but stubborn ; and though, after a week's confine- 
ment to the spare bedroom on the second story, I was able 
to sit up and move about again, the physician prescribed 
rest for a fortnight longer, with moderate exercise when 
the weather was fine. Aunt Peggy waited upon me as well 
as she was able : that is, when her household duties had 
been performed, she brought her knitting and sat by the 
stove at the foot of my bed, asking occasionally, in a tear- 
ful voice, " How do you feel, John ? " Fortunately, I re- 
quired no watching at night, for there was no element of 
tenderness in the house to make it endurable. My uncle 
took my place in the store, though it must have been a seri- 
ous interruption to his outside plans. He acquiesced, with- 
out apparent impatience, in the doctor's prescription of 
further rest. 

During those days of convalescence I experienced a 
delicious relief and lightness of heart. Spring had burst 
suddenly upon the land with a balmy brightness and 
warmth which lingered, day after day, belying the fickle 
fame of the month. Walking down Penn Street and cross- 
ing the bridge, I would find a sunny seat on the top of the 
gray cliff beyond, and bask in the soft awakenilig of the 
landscape around. The bluebird sang like the voice of 
the season ; below me, in gardens and fields, I saw how the 
dark brown of the mellow earth increased for the planting, 
and how sheets or cloudy wafts of green settled over the 
barrenness of winter. Again I became hopeful, joyous, 
confident of the future. Time and the tenderness of mem- 
ory had softened my grief: I often recalled mother's words 
on her death-bed, and allowed no unavailing sting of re- 
morse for neglected duties to cloud the serenity of my resig- 
nation. It was thus, I felt, that she would have me to feel, 
and her sainted spirit must rejoice in the returning buoy- 
ancy of mine. 



102 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

On one of those lovely April afternoons, as I was musing 
on the* cliff, — my thoughts taking a vague, wandering 
rhythm from the sound of a boatman's horn down the 
river, — the idea of writing something for publication came 
into my mind. A poem, of course, — for " Childe Harold," 
" Manfred," and " The Corsair " had turned the whole drift 
of my ideas into a channel of imagined song. To w^rite 
some verses and have them printed would be joy — triumph 
— glory. The idea took possession of me with irresistible 
force. Two dollars out of my seventeen had gone for a 
subscription to the Saturday Evening Post, — an expense 
at which Uncle Amos had grumbled, until he found that 
Aunt Peggy took stealthy dehght in perusing the paper. 
In its columns I found channing poetry by Bessie Bulfinch 
and Adeliza Choate, besides republications from contempo- 
rary English literature, es^Decially Dickens. B. Simmons, 
T. K, riervey, and Charles Swain became, for me, demi- 
gods of song ; I could only conceive of them as superior 
beings, of lofty stature and majestic beauty. I had never 
seen a man who had written a book. Even the editors 
of the Gazette and Adler, in Reading, were personages 
whose acquaintance I did not dare to seek. There was 
always a half-colmnn in the Post, addressed "To Cor- 
respondents," containing such messages as, — " Ivanhoe's 
story confains some sweet passages, but lacks incident : de- 
clined with thanks ; " or, " The ' Fairy's Bowser,' by ' Ce- 
cilia,' is a poem of much promise, and will appear next 
week." I invariably read the articles thus accepted, and, 
while I recognized their great merit, (for were they not 
printed ?) it seemed to me that, by much exertion, I might 
one day achieve the right to appear in their ranks. 

After having given hospitality to the idea, I carried pen- 
cil and paper with me, and devoted several afternoons to 
the poem. It was entitled, " The Unknown Bard " (mean- 
ing myself, of course), written in heroic lines, after I had 
vainly attempted the Spenserian stanza. As nearly as I 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 103 

can recollect, there were fifty or sixty lines of it, describing 
my intellectual isolation, and how I must stifle the burning 
thoughts that filled my bosom, lest the cold world should 
crush me with its envenomed scorn ! I signed myself 
" Selim," a name which I found in CoUins's First Eclogue, 
and particularly admired. How I used to wish that some 
good genius had inspired my mother to give me the name 
of " Selim," or " Secander," instead of " John " ! However, 
as " Selim " I would be known in the world of letters and 
on the tablets of fame — Selim, the Unknown Bard ! 

Finished, at last, and copied in my distinctest hand, there 
came the question — how should I send it? The clerk at 
the post-office knew me, because I went there for my un- 
cle's letters, and also, weekly, for my beloved newspaper. 
Perhaps he also read the paper, and would be sure to find 
a connection between my letter and the editorial answer to 
Selim of Reading. Not for the world would I have in- 
trusted the awful secret to a single soul, — not even to Pen- 
rose or Bob Simmons. Perhaps I should still have run 
the risk, as I fancied it to be, of using the post, bi ^ for a 
most lucky and unexpected chance. Uncle Amos sug- 
gested that I should go to Philadelphia in his stead, on 
some business relating to sugar, with the details of which I 
was acquainted. I was almost too demonstrative in my 
delight ; for my suspicious imcle shook his head, and made 
it a condition that I should go down in the morning-train, 
accomplish my mission at once, and return the same even- 
ing. 

On reaching the right-angled city, I found my way with 
little difficulty to "Simpson & Brother," Market Street, 
near Second, and, after very faithfully transacting the busi- 
ness, had still two hours to spare before the departure of 
the return-train. The newspaper office was near at hand, 
— Chestnut, above Third, — and thither I repaired, with 
flushed face and beating heart, the precious epistle held 
fast in my hand, yet carefully concealed under my sleeve, 



104 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

lest any one, in passing by, should read the superscription 
and guess the contents. I do not smile at myself, as I re- 
call this experience. The brain, like the heart, has its vir- 
ginity, and its first earnest utterance is often as tremulously 
shy as the first confession of love. 

My intention had been to deliver the letter at the office 
of the paper, as if I had been simply its bearer and not its 
author. But after I had mounted two dark, steep flights 
of steps, and found myself before the door, my courage 
failed me. I heard voices within : there were several per- 
sons, then. They would be certain to look at me sharply 

— to notice my agitation — perhaps to question me about 
the letter. While I was standing thus, twisting and turn- 
ing it in my hand, in a veritable perspiration from excite- 
ment, I heard footsteps descending from an upper story. 
Desperate and panic-stricken, I laid the letter hastily on 
the floor, at the door of the office, and rushed down to the 
street as rapidly and silently as possible. Without looking 
around, I walked up Chestnut Street wdth a fearful impres- 
sion that somebody was following me, and turning the cor- 
ner of Fourth, began to read the titles of the books in 
Hart's window. Five minutes having elapSed, I knew that 
I was not discovered, and recovered my composure ; though, 
now that the poem had gone out of my hands, I would 
have given anything to get it back again. 

When the next number of the paper arrived, I tore off 
the wrapper with trembling fingers and turned to the fate- 
ful column on the second page. But I might as well have 
postponed my excitement : there was no notice of the poem. 
Perhaps they never received the letter, — perhaps it had 
been trodden upon and defaced, and swept down-stairs by 
the office-boy ! These were, at least, consoling possibilities, 

— better that than to be contemptuously ignored. By the 
following week my fever was nearly over, and I opened the 
paper with but a faint expectation of finding anything ; but 
lo ! there it was, — " Selim " at the very head of the an- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 105 

noimcements ! These were the precious words : " We are 
obliged to ' Sehm ' for his poem, which we shall publish 
shortly. It shows the hand of youth, but evinces a flatter- 
ing promise. Let him trim the midnight lamp with dili- 
gence." 

If the sinking sun had wheeled about and gone up the 
western sky, or the budding trees had snapped into full leaf 
in five minutes, I don't believe it would have astonished 
me. I was on my way home from the post-office when I read 
the lines, and I remember turning out of Penn Street to go 
by a more secluded and circuitous way, lest I should be 
tempted to cut a pigeon-wing on the pavement, in the sight 
of the multitude. I passed a little brick building, with a tin 
sign on the shutter, — " D. J. Mulford, Attorney-at-Law." 
"Pooh!" I said to myself; "what's D.J. Mulford? He 
never published a poem in his life ! " As I caught a 
glimpse of his head, silhouetted against the back window, 
I found myself, nevertheless, rather inclined to pity him for 
being unconscious that the author of" The Unknown Bard" 
was at that moment passing his door. 

This disproportionate exultation, the reader will say, be- 
trayed shallow waters. Why should I not admit the fact ? 

My mind was exceedingly shallow, at that time, but, 
thank Heaven ! it was limj^id as a mountain brook. It 
could have floated no craft heavier than a child's toy-sloop, 
but the sun struck through it and filled its bed with light. 
If it is expected that we should feel ashamed of our intel- 
lectual follies, we must needs regret that we were ever young. 

When the poem at last appeared, after a miserably weary 
interval of two or three weeks, I was a little mortified to 
find that some liberty had been taken with the language. 
Where I had written " hath " I found " has " substituted, 
and, what was worse, " Fame's eternal brow," which I thought 
so grand, was changed into " Fame's resplendent brow." 
The poem did n't seem quite mine, with these alterations : 
they took -the keen edge off" my pride and my happiness. 



106 , JOHN GODFPwEY'S FORTUNES. 

However, Selim was at last the companion, if not the equal, 
of Bessie Bulfinch and Adeliza Choate, — that was a great 
point gained. I determined that he should not relapse into 
silence. 

My next essay was a tale, called " Envy ; or, the Maiden 
of Ravenna." I am ashamed to say that I placed the city 
upon the summit of a frightful precipice, the base of which 
was washed by the river Arno ! Laurelia, the maiden of 
the story, fell from the awful steep, but fortunately alighted 
on the branch of a weeping willow, which gently transferred 
her to the water, whence she was rescued by the Knight 
Grimaldi. But this story proved too much even for the 
kindly editor, whose refusal was so gentle and courteous 
that it neither wounded my pride nor checked my ambi- 
tion. 

One day in early summer I happened to pass again by 
the office of D. J. Mulford. I glanced at the sign me- 
chanically, and was going on, when a terrible thumping on 
the window-panes startled and arrested me. I stopped : the 
window was suddenly raised, and who but Charley Eand 
poked his head out ! 

" I say, Godfrey 1 " he cried ; " come in here a minute ! 
Mulford 's out, and I have the office to myself" 

"Why, Rand," said I, as he opened the door for me, 
" how did you get here ? " 

" Sit down, and I '11 tell you all about it. Father said, 
you know, 'that I might be a lawyer, if I had a mind. Well, 
this spring, when he found I had Latin enough to tell him 
what posse comitatus meant, and scire facias, and venditioni 
exponas, and so on, — such as you see in the sheriif 's adver- 
tisements, — he thought I was ready to begin the study. I 
had no objections, for I knew that the school would be dull, 
with Penrose, Marsh, Brotherton, and most of the older 
boys gone, and, besides, it 's time I was seeing a little more 
life. Many fellows set up in business for themselves at my 
age. Mulford 's father's lawyer, whenever he 's obliged to 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 107 

have one ; I suppose he '11 be my first client, after I pass. 
I 've been here ten days, and was just thinking I must find 
you out, when I saw you go by the window. Have a cigar ? " 

I declined the offer, and politely, considering my abhor- 
rence of the custom. 

" You 've grown, Godfrey," Rand continued, hauling a 
second chair towards him and hoisting his feet upon the 
arms, " and I see you 're getting some fuzz on your chin. 
You '11 be a man soon, and I should n't wonder if you 'd 
make your mark some day." 

I overlooked the patronizing manner of this remark in its 
agreeable substance. And here I should explain that Char- 
ley Rand was now by no means the same youth as on the day 
when we were together intrusted to Dr. Dymond's care. 
Until then he had been petted and humored in every pos- 
sible way, and was selfish and overbearing in his manner. 
A few months among forty or fifty boys, however, taught 
him to moderate his claims. He was brought down to the 
common level, and with that flexibility of nature which was 
his peculiar talent, or faculty, leajDcd over to the opposite 
extreme of smooth-tongued subservience. What he had 
ceased to gain by impudence, he now endeavored to obtain 
by coaxing, flattering, and wheedling. In the latter art he 
soon became an adept. Many a time have I worked out 
for him some knotty problem, in violation of the rules of 
the school, and in violation, also, of my own sense of right, 
cajoled by his soft, admiring, affectionate accents. I do not 
describe his character as I understood it then, but as I 
afterwards learned it. I was still his dupe. 

In the space of half an hour he managed to extract from 
me the particulars of my life and occupation in Reading. 
He already knew, in ten days, much more about the prin- 
cipal fami]ies of the place than I had learned in eight 
months. After this interview, I soon got the habit of walk- 
ing around to Mulford's office on Sunday afternoons and 
spending an hour or two with him. We sat in the back- 



108 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

room, which opened on a little yard covered with weeds, 
boards, and broken bottles, so that the proprieties of the 
street-side of the building were carefully respected. I 
felt less lonely, now that there was a schoolmate within 
hail. 

In my uncle's house things went on very much as usual. 
Bolty and I had scarcely any taste in common, (unless it 
was a fondness for pea-nuts, which I retain to this day,) 
but we never quarrelled. As we were strictly attentive to 
our respective duties, my uncle seemed to be satisfied with 
us, and was, for this reason perhai^s, forbearing in other 
respects. Aunt Peggy adhered to her monotonous house- 
hold round, and made no attempt to control my actions, 
except when I bought white linen instead of nankeen, for 
summer wear. " There '11 be no end to the washin' of it," 
she said, in a voice so suggestive of tears that I expected 
to see her take out her handkerchief. 

It was plain to me that Uncle Amos intended to enlarge 
his business as rapidly as was consistent with his prudent 
and cautious habits. I had good reason to believe that my 
services were included in his plans ; yet, though I was 
more firmly fixed than ever in my determination to leave 
when his legal guardianship should cease, I judged it best 
to be silent on this point. It would only lead to tedious 
sermons, — discussions in which neither could have the 
least sympathy with the other's views, and possibly a per- 
manent and very disagreeable disturbance in our relations 
towards each other. I do not think he recognized, as I 
did, that I had quietly established an armistice, which I 
could at any time annul. 

In one sense, Bolty was my aid. He never mentioned 
the subject, but I understood then as well as I do now that 
he knew my want of liking for the business, and was satis- 
fied that it should be so. After the weather grew warm 
enough, I resumed my Latin studies in the garret ; thither 
also I took prohibited books, and filled quires of paper with 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 109 

extracts and comments, feeling, instinctively, that my com- 
panion would never betray me. 

This sort of life was not what I would have chosen. It 
was far from satisfying the cravings of heart and brain ; 
but I bore it with patience, looking forward to the day of 
release. 






V 



110 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER IX. 

IN WHICH I OUGHT TO BE A SHEEP, BUT PROVE TO BE 
A GOAT. 

There was one point upon which I was always appre- 
hensive that Uncle Amos would assail me. It dated from 
that first evening in the little cottage at the Cross- Keys, 
the previous summer. What I have said of my shrinking 
delicacy of feeling with regard to my poetic attempts will 
equally apply to the religious sentiment. A dear and ten- 
der friend might have found me willing to open my heart 
to him concerning sacred things ; but I could not, dared 
not, admit a less privileged person to the sanctuary. I had 
not the courage or the independence necessary to arrest 
my uncle's approach to the subject, and was therefore pre- 
ternaturally watchful and alert in retreating. Very often, 
I suspect, I fancied an ambush where none existed. My 
uncle probably saw that he must tread cautiously, and feel 
his way by degrees, for I only remember one conversation 
in the course of the summer which really disturbed me. 

My poor mother had been an earnest Lutheran, of the 
hearty, cheerful, warm-blooded German sort. She always 
preferred thanksgiving for God's mercies to fear of His 
wrath, and had brought me up in the faith that the beauties 
and blessings of this life might be enjoyed without forfeit- 
ing one's title as a Christian. At the age of fourteen I 
had been confirmed, and was therefore to be considered as 
a member of the Church. At least, I supposed that the 
principal religious duty thenceforth required of me was to 
follow God's commandments as nearly as my imperfect 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. Ill 

j human nature would allow. I never closed my eyes in 
/ sleep without invoking the protection of my only Father, 
\ with a grateful feeling in my heart of hearts that He did 
jindeed hear and heed me. I did not fear damnation, 
^because I had not the slightest liking for the Devil. / 

I knew little or nothing of the slight partitions which 
divide the multitudinous sects of the Christian world, and 
was not the least troubled in conscience at attending my 
uncle's church instead of my own. Whatever was doc- 
trinal in the latter I had forgotten since my confirmation, 
— probably because it had then made very little impres- 
sion on my mind. My uncle's clergyman was a mild, ami- 
able man, whose goodness it was impossible to doubt, and I 
listened to his sermons with proper reverence. 

Something, I know not what, — possibly some memory 
of my mother, — led me, one Sunday in summer, to attend 
the Lutheran church. The well-known hymns fell on ray 
ear with a home-like sound, and the powerful tones of the 
organ seemed to lift me to new devotional heights. In the 
sermon I felt the influence of a strong, massive intellect, 
the movements of which I could not always follow, but 
which stimulated and strengthened me. After this, I 
divided my Sundays nearly equally between the two 
churches. On informing my uncle and i:unt, at dinner, 
where I had been, the -former was at first silent ; but, after 
some grave reflection, asked me, — 

" Are you a member of that persuasion ? " 

" Oh, yes," I answered, "just the same as mother and 
Aunt Peggy." 

I struck a blow without intending it. Aunt Peggy 
looked startled and uneasy ; a strong color came into her 
face ; then, after a quick glance at uncle, she lifted her 
hands and exclaimed, " No ! Praise and Glory, not now ! " 

" Hem ! " coughed Uncle Amos ; " never mind, Peggy ; 
blessed are them that see ! " Then, turning to me, he 
added, " Do you mean that you have professed faith and 
been baptized ? " 



112 JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES, 

" I was baptized when I was a baby," I answered, " and 
confirmed when I was fourteen." 

" Have you experienced a change of heart ? " 

" No," I boldly said, thinking that he meant to indicate 
infidelity, or some kind of backsliding, by this term. 

Uncle Amos, to my surprise, uttered a loud groan, and 
Aunt Peggy made that peculiar clucking noise with her 
tongue against her teeth, which some women employ to 
signify disaster or lamentation. 

" You feel, then," said Uncle Amos, after a long pause, 
" that your nature is utterly corrupt and sinful. Do you 
not see what a mockery it is to claim that you are a fol- 
lower of the Lamb ? " 

" No, uncle ! " I cried, indignantly ; " I am not corrupt 
and sinful. I don't pretend to be a saint, but no one has a 
right to call me a sinner. I have kept all the command- 
ments, except the tenth, and I never broke that without 
repenting of it afterwards. Mother belonged to the Lu- 
theran Church, and I won't hear anything said against 
it ! " 

For a moment an equally earnest reply seemed to be 
hovering on my uncle's tongue ; biit he checked himself 
with a strong effort, groaned in a subdued way, and re- 
marked with unusual gravity, " Darkness ! darkness ! " His 
manner towards me, for a day or two afterwards, was unu- 
sually solemn. The exigencies of business, however, soon 
restored our ordinary relations. 

In the autumn, my uncle's church was visited by a noted 
" revival " preacher, whose coming had been announced 
some time in advance. He was a Kentuckian, of consid- 
erable fame in his own sect, and even beyond its borders, 
so that his appearance never failed to draw crowds together. 
As this was his first visit to Reading, it was an event 
which could not, of course, be allowed to go by without giv- 
ing the church the full benefit of the impression he should 
produce, and a large increase of the congregation was 
counted upon as a sure result. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 113 

Finally, Mr. Brandreth, the resident clergyman, an- 
nounced with unusual unction that " on the next Sabbath, 
Brother Mellowby would occupy the pulpit." The news im- 
mediately spread through the town, and was duly announced 
in the papers. When the day and hour arrived, the church 
was so crowded that extra benches were brought and placed 
lengthwise along the aisles. Expectation was on tiptoe, 
when, after the hymn had been sung and Mr. Brandreth 
had made a prayer in which the distinguished brother was 
not forgotten, a tall form arose and stood in the pulpit. 
Brother Mellowby was over six feet in height, and rather 
lank, but with broad, square shoulders and massive face. 
His eyes were large and dark, and his black hair, growing 
straight upward from his forehead, turned and fell on either 
side in long looks, which tossed and waved in the wind of 
his eloquence. His cheek-bones were prominent, his mouth 
large and expressive (that of Michael Angelo's " Moses " 
still reminds me of it), and his chin square and strong. 
Altogether, evidently a man of power and of purpose, but 
with more iron than gold in his composition. He looked, to 
me, as if he had at one time been near enough to Hell to feel 
the scorch of its flames, and had thence fought his way to 
Heaven by sheer force of a will stronger than the Devil's. 

The commencement of his sermon was grave, earnest, 
and deliberate. It held the attention of the congregation 
rather by the clear, full, varied music of his voice than by 
any peculiar force of expression. Towards the close, how- 
ever, as he touched upon the glories of the Christian's fu- 
ture reward, the wonderful power of his voice and the 
warmth of his personal magnetism developed themselves. 
Looking upwards, with rapt ecstatic gaze, he seemed verily 
to behold what he described, — the clouds opening, the 
glory breaking through, the waving of golden palms in the 
hands of the congregated angels, the towers of the New 
Jerusalem, shining far off, in deeps of infinite lustre, the 
green Eden of Heaven, watered by the River of Life, — 



114 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

and then, glory surpassing all these glories, the unimagin- 
able radiance of the Throne. Still pointing upwards, as he 
approached the awful light, he suddenly stopped, covered 
his eyes, and in a voice of tremulous awe, exclaimed, " The 
Seraphs veil their brows before Him, — the eyes of the re- 
deemed souls dare not look upon His countenance, — the 
mind clothed in corrupting flesh cannot imagine His glory ! " 

The speaker sat down. I had scarcely breathed during 
this remarkable peroration, and, when his voice ceased, 
seemed to drop through leagues of illuminated air, to find 
myself, with a shock, in my uncle's pew. For a few seconds 
the silence endured ; then a singular, convulsive sound, which 
was not a cry, yet could scarcely be called a groan, ran 
through the church. Some voices exclaimed " Glory ! " the 
women raised their handkerchiefs to their faces, and an un- 
accustomed light shone from the eyes of the men. The 
hymn commencing, " Turn to the Lord and seek salvation,^' 
then arose from the congregation with a fervor which made 
it seem the very trumpet-call and battle-charge of the ar- 
mies of the Cross. 

I did not go to church in the evening, but I heard that 
the impression produced by Mr. Mellowby's first sermon 
was still further increased by his second. Several " hope- 
ful " cases were already reported, and the services were an- 
nounced to continue through the week. My uncle proposed 
that Bolty and I should relieve each other alternately, in the 
evenings, so that we might both attend. I was prevented, 
however, from going again until Wednesday, by which time 
he had decided to put up the shutters an hour earlier, even 
at the loss of some little custom. 

On this occasion, Bolty and I went together. When we 
entered the church, we found it well filled, and the atmos- 
phere almost stifling. Brother Mellowby was " exhorting," 
but, from a broad cross-aisle in front of the pews, up and 
down which he walked, pausing now and then to turn and 
hurl impassioned appeals to his auditors. Whenever he 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 115 

stopped a moment to recover breath, a wild chorus of cries 
and groans arose, mingled with exclamations of "Amen ! " 
" Glory ! " " Go on. Brother ! " Speaker and hearers were 
evidently strung to the same pitch of excitement, and mut- 
ually inspired each other. Mr. Brandreth, Uncle Amos, 
and several prominent members of the congregation walked 
up and down the aisles, seizing upon the timid or hesitating, 
placing their arms about the necks of the latter, gently 
coaxing them to kneel, or, when wholly successful, leading 
them, sobbing and howling, to the " anxious seat " in front 
of the pulpit. These intermediate agents were radiant wdth 
satisfaction ; the atmosphere of the place seemed to exhila- 
rate and agreeably excite them. For my part, I looked on 
the scene with wonder, not unmixed with a sense of pain. 

Brother Mellowby had been apparently engaged in per- 
suasive efforts up to the time of my entrance. Some twelve 
or fifteen persons had been moved, and were kneeling in 
various attitudes — some prostrate and silent, some crying 
and flinging up their arms convulsively — at the anxious 
seat. Others were weeping or groaning in their seats in the 
pews, but still hung back from the step which proclaimed 
them confessed sinners, seeking for mercy. It was to these 
latter that the speaker now addressed himself with a new 
and more powerful effort. 

I can only attempt to describe it. To my sensitive, 
I beauty-loving nature, it was a^\'ful, yet pervaded with a 
wonderful fascination which held me to listen. He painted 
the future condition of the unconverted with an imagina- 
tion as terrible as his vision of the Christian's Heaven had 
been dazzling and lovely. It was a feat of word-painting, 
accompanied with dramatic gestures which brought the 
white-hot sulphur of Hell to one's very feet, and with in- 
tonations of voice which suggested the eternal despair of 
the damned. 

" There ! " he cried, lifting his long arms high above his 
head, and then bringing them down with a rushing swoop 



'116 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

/ until his hands nearly touched the floor, — " Sinners, there 
i is your bed ! In the burning lake — in the bottomless seas 
■; of fire, — where the Evil . that now flatters you with hon- 
eyed kisses shall sting and gnaw and torture forever, — 
where the fallen angels themselves shall laugh at your ago- 
, nies, and the burning remorse of millions of ages shall not 
\ avail to open the gates of the pit ! For you will be forever 
sinking down — down — down — DOWN, in the eternity 
of Hell!" 

He shouted out the last words as if crying from the 
depths of anguish he had depicted. His face was like that 
of a lost angel, grand and awful in its gloomy light. Ex- 
clamations of " Lord, have mercy ! " " Lord, save me ! " 
arose all over the church, and some of the mourners in 
front became frantic in their despairing appeals. Bolty, 
at my side, was sobbing violently. For myself, I felt op- 
pressed and bewildered ; my mind seemed to be narcotized 
by some weird influence, though I was not conscious of any 
terror on my soul's account. 

Brother Mellowby's tone suddenly changed again. 
Stretching forth his hands imploringly, he called, in ac- 
cents of piercing entreaty, " Why do ye delay ? See, the 
Redeemer stands ready to receive you ! Now is the ac- 
cepted time, and now is the day of salvation. Kneel down 
at His feet, acknowledge Him, lay your burden into His 
willing hands. Oh, were your sins redder than scarlet, 
they shall be washed white ; oh, were the gates now yawn- 
ing to receive you, He would snatch you as a brand from 
the burning ; oh, if your hearts are bruised and bleeding, 
they will be healed ; oh, the tears will be wiped from your 
eyes ; oh, your souls will rejoice and will sing aloud in grat- 
itude and triumph, and you will feel the blessed assurance 
of salvation which the world cannot take away ! " 

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he uttered these words : 
a softer yet not less powerful influence swayed the doubtful 
mourners. They shook as reeds in the wind, and one by 



JOHJ^ GODFEEY'S FORTU^sES. 117 

one, amid shouts of " Glory ! glory ! " tottered forward and 
sank down among the other suppliants. 

I could not doubt the solemn reality of the scene. The 
preacher felt, with every fibre of his body, that he was an- 
nouncing God's truth, and the " mourners," as they were 
called, were, for the hour at least, sincere in their self-accu- 
sations and their cry for some evidence of pardon. I com- 
prehended also, from what I saw and heard, that there was 
indeed a crisis or turning-point of the excitement, beyond 
which the cries of penitence and supplication became joy- 
ful hosannas. There, before me, human souls seemed to 
be hovering in the balance, each fighting for itself the 
dread battle of Armageddon, the issue of which was to fix 
its eternal fate. Some were crouching in guilty fear of the 
Wrath they had invoked, while others sprang upward with 
radiant faces, as if to grasp the garments of the invisible 
herald of mercy. The tragedy of our spiritual nature, in 
all its extremes of agony and joy, was there dimly enacted. 
It was impossible to stand still and behold all this un- 
moved. I was not conscious of being touched, either by 
the Terror or the Promise ; but a human sympathy with the 
passion of the fluctuating, torn, and shattered spirits around 
me — drifted here and there like the eddies of ghosts in 
the circles of Dante's " Purgatorio " — filled me with bound- 
less pity. The tears were running down my face before I 
knew it. Yet I could not repress a feeling of astonish- 
ment when I saw the impassive Bolty led forward weeping 
and roaring for mercy, and bend down his bullet-head in 
the midst of the mourners. 

Presently Uncle Amos came towards me. He laid his 
hand afiectionately upon my shoulder, and said, with a tone 
in which there was triumph as well as persuasion, " Ah, I 
see you are touched at last, John. Now you will know 
what it is to experience Religion. The gates are opened 
this night, and there is joy and glory enough for all. Come 
forward, and let us pray together." 



118 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

He took hold of my arm, but I drew back. I could not 
plunge into that chaos of shrieks and sobbing, around the 
"" anxious seat." 

" How ? " said ray uncle, in grave surprise : " with all this 
testimony of the saving power of Grace, you are not willing 
to pray ? " 

" Oh, yes," I answered, " I am willing to pray." 

« Come, then." 

" I need not go there to do it. I can pray, in my heart, 
here, just as well." 

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "it was thus that the Pharisee 
prayed ; but the poor publican, who threw himself on the 
ground and cried, ' God, be merciful to me a sinner ! ' made 
the prayer which was accepted." 

"No, Uncle Amos," I retorted, "the publican did not 
throw himself upon the ground. The Bible says he stood 
afar off, and smote upon his breast." 

I was perfectly earnest and sincere in what I said, but I 
verily believe that my uncle suspected a hidden sarcasm in 
my words. He left me abruptly, and I soon saw him in 
conversation with the Rev. Mr. Brandreth, in the forward 
part of the aisle. It was not long before the latter, stopping 
by the way to stoop and whisper encouragement into the 
ears of some who were kneeling in the pews, approached 
the place where I stood. I knew, immediately, that he had 
been sent, but I did not shrink from the encounter, be- 
cause, so far as I knew him, I had found him to be an ami- 
able and kindhearted man. My tears of sympathy were 
already dry, but I felt that I was trembling and excited. 

" Brother Godfrey," said the clergyman, " are you ready, 
to-night, to acknowledge your Saviour ? " 

" I have always done it," I answered ; " I belong to the 
Lutheran Church." 

" You are a professing Christian, then ? " 

I did not precisely know what meaning he attached to 
the word " professing," but I answered, "•Yes." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 119 

" We accept all such to free communion with us. Come 
and unite with us in prayer for these perishing souls ! " 

I again declined, giving him the same reason as I had 
given to my uncle. But the clergyman'sr reply to this plea 
was not so easy to evade. 

" In the hearing of God," said he, " your prayer may be 
just as fervent ; but, so far as your fellow-mortals are con- 
cerned it is lost. While you stand here, you are counted 
among the cold and the indifferent. Give a visible sign of 
your pious interest, my brother ; think that some poor, 
timorous soul, almost ready to acknowledge its sin and cry 
aloud for pardon, may be helped to eternal salvation by 
your example. Come forward and pray for and with them 
who are just learning to pray. If you feel the blessed 
security in your own heart, oh, come and help to pour it 
into the hearts of others ! " 

He said much more to the same effect, and I found it 
very difficult to answer him. I was bewildered and dis- 
tressed, and my only distinct sensation was that of pain. 
The religious sentiment in my nature seemed to be raked 
and tortured, not serenely and healthfully elevated. But I 
was too young to clearly comprehend either myself or 
others, and I saw no way out of the dilemma except to 
kneel, as Mr. Brandreth insisted, and pray silently for the 
rest of the evening. 

I therefore allowed him to lead me forward. The con- 
gregation, of course, supposed that I came as another 
mourner, — another treasure-trove, cast up from the rag- 
ing deeps, — and greeted my movement with fresh shouts 
and hosannas. Uncle Amos gave a triumphant exclama- 
tion of " Glory! " or, rather, " Gullow-ry !" as he pro- 
nounced it, in the effort to make as much as possible out 
of the word. Brother Mellowby tossed back his floating 
hair, threw out his long arms, and cried, "Another — still 
another ! Oh, come all ! this night there is rejoicing in 
Heaven ! This night the throne of Hell totters ! " 



120 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

The " anxious seat " was painful to contemplate at a dis- 
tance, but there was something terrifying in a nearer view. 
A girl of twenty, whose comb had been broken in tearing 
off her bonnet, leaped up and down, with streaming hair, 
clapping her hands, and shouting, or rather chanting, 
" Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, my soul ! " Another 
lay upon her back on the floor, screaming, while Aunt 
Peggy, leaning over the back of the next pew, fanned her 
face with a palm-leaf fan. The men were less violent in 
their convulsions, but their terrible weeping and sobbing 
was almost more than I could bear to hear. 

I was glad to sink into some vacant place, and bury my 
face in my hands, that I might escape, in a measure, from 
the curious eyes of the unconverted spectators and the mis- 
taken rejoicings of the church-members. On either side 
of me was a strong, full-grown man, — one motionless, and 
groaning heavily from time to time, while the other, after 
spasms during which he threw up his head and arms, and 
literally howled, fell down again, and confessed his secret 
sins audibly at my very ear. He was either unconscious 
of the proximity of others, or carried too far in his excite- 
ment to care for it. I could not avoid hearing the man's 
acknowledged record of guilt, — let not the reader imagine 
that I ever betrayed him, — and I remember thinking, 
even in the midst. of my own bewilderment, that he was a 
very venial sinner, at the worst, and his distress was alto- 
gether out of proportion to his offences. God would cer- 
tainly pardon him. This thought led me to an examination 
of my own life. To Uncle Amos I had rather indignantly 
repelled the epithet of " sinner," but might I not, after all, 
be more culpable than I had supposed ? Was there noth- 
ing on account of which I might not plead for the Divine 
pardon ? 

But I was not allowed to proceed far in this silent sur- 
vey of my life. Supposing, after my conversation with Mr. 
Brandreth, that the attitude and fact of prayer was all that 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 121 

was required of me, as an evidence of sympathy and a pos- 
sible help to some hesitating soul, I made no further dem- 
onstrations, but knelt, with my arms upon the bench and 
my forehead bowed upon them. I was beginning to collect 
my confused thoughts, when a lamenting female voice was 
heard at my ear, " How do you feel, John ? " 

If a feeling of exasperation at such a place and time was 
sinful, I sinned. " Aunt Peggy," I said, somewhat sternly, 
— (for I knew that unless I made answer the question 
would be repeated,) — " Aunt Peggy, I am trying to pray." 
She left me, but I was not long alone. As soon as I 
heard a combined creaking of boot-soles and knee-joints 
behind me, I knew whose voice would follow. I was patted 
on the back by a large, dumpy hand, and Uncle Amos said, 
in a hollow undertone, " That 's right ; John, pray on ! shall 
I help you to throw down your burden ? " 

My nerves twitched and drew back, as his heavy arm 
stole across my neck. This was the climax of my distress, 
and I plucked up a desperate courage to meet it. " Uncle 
Amos," said I, "I can neither pray nor think here, among 
these people. Let me go home to my room, and I promise 
you that, before I sleep to-night, I will know what is in my 
heart and what are its relations to God ! " 

Mr. Brandreth was standing near, and heard my words. 
At least, some voice which I took to be his, whispered, " I 
think it will be best." I have a dim recollection of getting 
out of the church by the door in the rear of the pulpit ; of 
my aunt walking home beside me, under the starry sky, 
uttering lamentations to which I paid no heed ; of rushing 
breathlessly up the staircase to my garret, opening the win- 
dow, drawing a chair beside it, resting my chin on the win- 
dow-sill, and shedding tears of pure joy and relief on find- 
ing myself alone in the holy peace and silence of the 
night. The presence of God came swiftly down to me 
from the starry deeps. " Here is my heart ! " cried a voice 
in my breast ; " look at it, Father, and tell me what I am ! " 



122 JOHI^ GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Then I seemed to behold it myself, and strove to disen- 
tangle the roots of Self from the memory of ray boyish life, 
that I might stand apart and judge it. I found pride, im- 
patience, folly ; but they were as light surface-waves which 
disappeared with their cause. I found childish likes and 
dislikes ; silly little enmities, which had left no sting ; 
pranks, instigated by the spirit of Fun rather than that of 
Evil ; and later, secret protests against the sorrows and 
trials of my life. But all these things gave me less trouble 
than one little incident which perversely clung to my mem- 
ory, and still does, with a sense of shame which I shall 
never be able to overcome. Several of us boys were play- 
ing about the tavern at the Cross-Keys, one afternoon in 
August, when a dealer in water-melons came by with a cart- 
load of them for sale. We looked on, with longing eyes 
and watery mouths, while he disposed of several ; and at 
last the dealer generously gave us one which had been sev- 
eral times " plugged," and was cracked at one end. We 
hurried under the barn-bridge with our treasure, and agreed 
to take " slice about," so as to have an equal division. The 
crack, however, divided the solid, sweet, crimson centre 
from the seedy strip next the rind — so we commenced with 
the latter, leaving a tower of delicious aspect standing in 
the midst of the melon. I looked at it until I became 
charmed, entranced, insane with desire to crush its cool, 
sugared filigree upon my tongue, and when my next turn 
came, stretched forth a daring hand and cut off the tower ! 
The other boys looked at each other: one gave a long 
whistle ; one exclaimed " Goy ! " and the third added the 
climax by the sentence, " What a hog ! " Before I had fin- 
ished eating the tower it had turned to gall and wormwood 
in my mouth. I choked it clown, however, and went home, 
without touching the melon again. 

That night, as I leaned upon the window-sill, and recalled 
my faults and frailties, this incident came back and placed 
itself in the front rank of my offences. I conld look calmly, 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 123 

or with a scarcely felt remainder of penitence, upon all 
else, but my humiliation for this act burned as keenly as 
on the first day. It so wearied me, finally, that I gave up 
the retrospect. I was satisfied that God's omnipotent love, 
not his wrath, overhung and embraced me ; that my heart, 
though often erring and clouded, never consciously lusted 
after Evil. I longed for its purification, not for its change. 
I should not shrink from Death, if he approached, through 
fear of the Hereafter ; I might receive a low seat in Para- 
dise, but I certainly had done nothing — and would not, 
with God's help — to deserve the a^vful punishment which 
Brother Mellowby had described. 

In relating this portion of my life, I trust that I shall not 
be misunderstood. I owe reverence to the sjjiritwof Devo- 
tion, in whatever form it is manifested, and have no inten- 
tion of assailing, or even undervaluing, that which I have 
just described. There are, undoubtedly, natures which can 
only be reached by brandishing the menace of retribution, 
' — perhaps, also, by the agency of strong physical excite- 
ment. I do not belong to such. [ Religion enters my heart 
through the gateway of Love and not that of Fear. I The 
latter entrance was locked and the key thrown away, al- 
most before I can remember it. Brother Mellowby's revi- 
val had an influence upon my after-fortunes, as will be seen 
presently, and I therefore relate it precisely as it occurred. 

Two hours passed away while I sat at the open window. 
I cannot now reproduce all the movements of my mind, nor 
follow the devious ways by which, at the last, I reached the 
important result — peace. When it was over, I felt languid 
in body, but at heart immensely cheered and strengthened. 
I foresaw that trouble awaited me, but I was better armed 
to meet it. 

I had scarcely gone to bed, before Bolty made his ap- 
pearance. From the suppressed shouts of " Glory ! Glo- 
ry ! " as he was ascending the last flight of stairs, I knew 
that he had " got through," — to use Uncle Amos's expres- 



124 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

sion. I therefore counterfeited sleep, and was regaled with 
snatches of triumphant hymns, and a very long and hoarsely 
audible prayer, delivered at the foot of the bed, before he 
became subdued enough to sleep. The powers of his big 
body must have been severely taxed, for, when I arose in 
the morning, he still lay locked in a slumber as heavy and 
motionless as death. In fact, he did not awake until nearly 
noon. Uncle Amos not allowing him to be disturbed. The 
latter looked at me sharply and frequently during the day, 
but he had no opportunity for reference to my spiritual con- 
dition, except in the course of the unusually prolonged 
grace at dinner. He prayed with unction both for Bolty 
and myself. 

In the evening, when he annoimced that we might again 
put up the shutters at eight o'clock, in order to attend the 
services, I quietly said, — 

" It is n't necessary. Uncle Amos. I am not going to 
your church this evening." 

He grew very red about the jaws, and the veins on his 
forehead swelled. " What did you promise me last even- 
ing ? " he asked. 

" I have kept my promise," I answered. " It would be 
a mockery if I should go forward with the rest to repent of 
sins which have been already forgiven. I understand, now, 
what you mean by a change of heart, but I do not need it." 

Uncle Amos threw up his hands and exclaimed, " Lord, 
deliver me from vanity of heart ! " Aunt Peggy, in her 
dingy bombazine bonnet, fell into spasms of clucking, and 
this time did really shed a few tears as she cried, " To think 
that one o' my family should be so hardened ! " 

" I should like to know where the Pharisees are now ! " 
I cried, hot with anger. 

" Come, wife, — let us pray to-night for the obdoorate 
sinner ! " said my uncle, taking her by the arm. Bolty fol- 
lowed, and they all went to church, leaving me in the store. 

After I had closed for the night, I resmned • my post at 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 125 

the bedroom-window, and reflected upon my probable po- 
sition in the house. It had hitherto been barely endurable 
to a youth of my tastes and my ambition, but now I foresaw 
that it would become insupportable. Neither uncle nor 
aunt, I was sure, would ever look upon me with favor ; and 
even Bolty, who had thus far tacitly befriended me, might 
think it his duty to turn informer and persecutor. I much 
more than earned my board by my services, and therefore 
recognized no moral obligation towards my uncle. The le- 
gal one still existed, but it could not force me to lead a 
slavish and unhappy life against my will. I should not get 
possession of my little property for a year and a half; but 
I could certainly trust to my own resources of hand or brain, 
in the meantime. The matter was soon settled in my mind : 
I would leave "A. Woolley's Grocery Store " forever. 



126 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



t^ 



CHAPTER X. 

CONCEENING MT ESTABLISHMENT IN UPPER SAMARIA. 

I DEA^OTED my first leisure hour to a confidential visit to 
Charley Eand. His smooth, amiable ways had done much 
to make our intercourse closer than it ever had been at 
school, though there was still something in his face which 
led me occasionally to distrust him. His mottled gray 
eyes, which could look at one steadily and sweetly, were 
generally restless, and the mellowness of his voice some- 
times showed its want of perfect training by slipping into 
a harsher natural tone. Besides, he was a little too demon- 
strative. His habit of putting his hand on my shoulder 
and commencing a remark with (emphasizing every word) 
"My — DEAR — FRIEND," made me feel uncomfortable. 
Nevertheless, his presence in Reading was a satisfaction to 
me, and I bestowed a great deal of friendly affection upon 
him for the reason that there was no one else to whom I 
could give it. 

To him, then, I related all that had happened. The 
habit of the future lawyer seemed to be already creeping 
over him. He interrupted my narrative Avith aji occasional 
question, in order to make certain points clearer, and, when 
I had finished, meditated a while in silence. " It 's a pity," 
he said at last, " that I 'm not already admitted to practice, 
and sporting my own shingle. I should like to know your 
uncle, anyhow : can't you introduce me ? " 

I felt a great repugnance to this proposal, and urged 
Rand not to insist upon it. 

" Oh, well," said he, carelessly, " it 's of no consequence, 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 127 

except on your account. I 'm sure I have no inclination to 
meet the old porpoise. But I 'd advise you to work along, 
the best way you can, until you can get a better hook on 
him than you have now." 

" No, Rand ! " I interrupted, " my mind is made up. I 
shall leave his house." 

In the course of the conversation Rand had managed to 
extract from me the amount of my own little property, and 
the disposition of the interest due the previous spring, 
the greater part of which I had allowed my uncle to rein- 
vest. He also questioned me concerning the latter's for- 
tune, and seemed desirous to know a great many jDartic- 
ulars which had no apparent bearing on the present crisis 
in my fortunes. Our talk ended, however, in my repeat- 
ing my determination to leave. 

" I hoped, Rand," I added, " that you could advise me 
what to do. I can only think of two things, — teaching a 
country school, or getting a situation in another store. Of 
course, I should rather teach." 

" Then, if you are bent upon it, Godfrey, I think I can 
help you. One of Mulford's clients, from Upper Samaria 
township, — not far from Cardiff, you know, — was talking 
about a teacher for their school, three or four days ago. 
He 's a director, and has the most say, as he 's a rich old 
fellow. I '11 tell Mulford to recommend you, if you 've a 
mind to try it, and meanwhile you can write to Dr. Dymond 
for a certificate of your fitness. If the plan succeeds — 
and I don't see why it should n't — you may say good-bye 
to the old porpoise in less than ten days." 

I seized Rand's hand and poured out my gratitude ; here 
was a way opened at once ! I should have pleasant em- 
ployment for the winter, at least, and a little capital in the 
spring to pursue my fortune further. The same evening I 
wrote to Dr. Dymond, and in four days received a stiffly- 
worded but very flattering testimony of my capacities. In 
the beginning of the next week, Mulford's client, a Mr. 



128 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Bratton, came again to Reading, and Rand was as good as 
his word. He recommended me so strongly that Mr. B. 
requested an interview, which was at once arranged. Rand 
came for me, and we met in Mulford's back-office. 

The director, iii3on whom my success mainly depended, 
was a bluff, hearty man, with a pompous and patronizing 
manner. " Ah, you sire the young man," he said, stretch- 
ing out his hand, and surveying me the while from head to 
foot, — " should have liked a little more signs of authority, 
— very necessary where there are big boys in the school. 
However, Mine is not a rough neighborhood, — very much 
in advance of Lower Samaria." 

I handed him Dr. Dymond's letter, which he ran through, 
with audible comments ; — " ' promising scholar ' — good, 
but hardly enough for Me ; — ' thorough acquaintance with 
grammar ' — ah, very good — My own idee ; — ' talent for 
composition,' ' Latin,' — rather ornamental, ra-a-ther ; — 
hem, ' all branches of arithmetic ' — that 's more like busi- 
ness. A very good recommendation, upon the whole. How 
much do you expect to be paid ? " 

I replied that I wanted no more than the usual remuner- 
ation, admitting that I had never yet taught school, but 
that I should make every effort to give satisfaction. 

" We pay from twenty to twenty-five dollars a month," 
said he ; " bat you could n't expect more than twenty at the 
start. You 're a pig in a poke, you know." 

This was not very flattering ; but as I saw that no offence 
was intended, I took none. Nay, I even smiled good- 
humoredly at Mr. Bratton's remark, and thereby won his 
good-will. When we parted, the engagement was almost 
made. 

" For form's sake," said he, " I must consult the other 
directors ; but I venture to say that My recommendation 
will be sufficient. If you come, I shall depend upon you 
to justify My selection." 

I now judged it necessary to inform my uncle of the con- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 129 

templated step. I presume the idea of it had never en- 
tered his head ; his surprise was so great that he seemed 
at a loss what course to take. When he found that both 
opposition and ridicule were of no avail, he tried persua- 
sion, and even went so far as to promise me immunity from 
persecution in religious matters. 

" We will let that rest for the present," said he. " My 
ways a'n't your'n, though I 've tried to bring you to a proper 
knowledge of your soul, for your own good. I promised 
your mother I 'd do my dooty by you, but you don't seem 
to take It m a numble spirit. But now you 're acquainted 
with business, in a measure, and likely to turn out well if 
you stick to it. I 'd always reckoned on paying you a sel- 
ery after you come of age; it 's a sort of apprenticeship 
till then. And you 've a little capital, and can make it 
more. I don't say but what I could n't take you, in the 
course of time, as a pardner in the concern." 

I tried to explain that my taste and ambition lay in a 
totally opposite direction, — that I neither could nor would 
devote my life to the mysteries of the grocery business. It . 
required some time to make my uncle comprehend my sin- 
cerity. He looked upon the matter as the temi^orary whim 
of a boy. When, at last, he saw that my determination 
was inflexible, his anger returned, more violently than at 
first. 

" Go, then ! " he cried ; " I wash my hands of you ! But 
this let me tell you — look out for yourself till you're 
twenty-one ! Not a penny of your money will I advance 
till the law tells me, — and more, not a penny of mine will 
you get when I die ! " 

These words roused an equal anger in my heart. I felt 
myself turning white, and my voice trembled in spite of 
myself as I exclaimed, " Keep your accursed money ! Do 
you think I would soil my fingers with it? Holy as you 
are and sinful as I am, I look down upon you and thank 
Orod no mean thoughts ever entered my heart ! " 



130 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

The breach was now impassable. I had cut off the last 
bridge to reconciliation. Nothing more was said, and I 
quietly and speedily made my preparations for leaving the 
house. Bolty, whose manner had become exceedingly 
mild and subdued since his conversion, did not seem much 
surprised by the catastrophe. Perhaps he regretted the 
loss of a companion, but his personal emotions were too 
shallow to give him much uneasiness. I watched, with 
some curiosity, to see whether he would still recommend 
his patent-medicines in the accustomed style; but even 
here he was changed. With an air of quiet gravity, he 
affirmed, " The pills is reckoned to be very good ; we sell 
a great many, ma'am. Them that cares for their perishin' 
bodies is relieved by 'em." 

This mode of recommendation seemed to be just as ef- 
fectual as the former. 

Two days afterwards a note arrived from Mr. Bratton 
and I left my uncle's house. There were no touching fare- 
wells, and no tears shed exce^Dt Aunt Peggy's, as she ex- 
claimed, " I would n't have believed it of you ; but you '11 
rue it ! — ts, ts, ts, ts, — you '11 rue it, too late ! " In spite 
of this evil prediction, I think she must have felt a little 
shame at seeing her sister's child leave her doors in the 
way I did. 

A rude mail-coach took me as far as Cardiff, where I 
left my trunk at the tavern, and set out on foot for the res- 
idence of Mr. Bratton. It was Friday ; I was to be pre- 
sented to the directors on Saturday, and to open school on 
Monday. Upper Samaria was only three miles from Car- 
diff, — the latter place, a village of some four hundred in- 
habitants, being the post-office for the region round about. 

It was a bright, cheery day. A bracing wind blew from 
the northwest, shaking the chestnuts from their burrs and 
the shell-barks from their split hulls. The farmers and 
their men sat in the fields^ each before his overturned 
shock, and husked the long, yellow ears of corn. I passed 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 131 

a load of apples on their way to the cider-press, and the 
sunburnt driver grinned with simple good-will as he tossed 
me a ruddy " wine-sap." Never before had I breathed so 
exquisite an atmosphere of freedom. I stood at last on my 
own independent feet, in the midst of the bright autumnal 
world. Wind and sun, the rustling trees and the hasten- 
ing waters, the laborers looking up as I passed, and some- 
where, deep in the blue overhead, the S^^irit that orders 
and upholds every form of life, seemed to recognize me as 
a . creature competent to take charge of his own destiny. 
On the hilltops I paused and stretched forth my arms like 
a discoverer taking possession of new lands. The old con- 
tinent of dependence and subjection lay behind me, and I 
saw the green shores of the free, virgin world. 

Plappy ignorance of youth that grasps life as a golden 
bounty, not as a charge to be guarded with sleepless eyes 
and weary heart ! Surely some movement of Divine Pity 
granted us that blindness of vision in which we only see 
the bloom of blood on cheek and lip, not the dark roots 
that branch below — the garlanded mask of joy hiding the 
tragic mystery ! 

After a while the rolling upland over which I had been 
wandering, sank gently towards the southeast into a broad, 
softly outlined valley, watered by a considerable stream. 
The landlord at Cardiff had given me minute directions, 
so that when I saw a large mill-pond before me, \\dth a race 
leading to an old stone-mill, a white house behind two un- 
mense weeping-willows on the left, and a massive brick 
house on the right, across the stream, I knew that the lat- 
ter edifice must be the residence of Mr. (or " Squire " ) 
Septimus Bratton. The main highway followed the base 
of some low, gradual hills on the lefl bank, and a furlong 
beyond " Yule's Mill," as the place was called, I noticed a 
square, one-story hut, with pyramidal roof, which I was 
sure must be the school-house. A little further, another 
road came across the hills from the eastward, and at the 



132 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

junction there were a dozen buildings, comprising, as I 
afterwards discovered, the store, blacksmith's and shoe- 
maker's shops, and the " Buck " Tavern, where, on election- 
days, the polls for Upper Samaria were held. Down the 
stream, the view extended for two or three miles over rich 
and admirably cultivated farm-land, interspersed with noble 
tracts of wood, and with clumps of buttonwood- and ash- 
trees along the course of the stream. 

Mr. Bratton's house stood upon a knoll, commanding a 
very agreeable view of the valley. It was a large cube of 
red brick, with high double chimneys at each end, and a 
veranda in front sujDported by white Ionic columns of 
wood. A dense environment of Athenian poplars and sil- 
ver-maples buried the place in shade, while the enclosure 
sloping down to the road was dotted with balsam-fir and 
arbor-vitae. The fact that this lawn — if it could be so 
called — covered an acre of ground, and was grown with 
irregular tufts of natural grass, instead of being devoted 
to potatoes, indicated wealth. In the rear rose a huge 
barn, with a stable-yard large enough to hold a hundred 
cattle. 

I walked up a straight central path, trodden in the grass, 
and ungravelled, to the front-door, and knocked. Foot- 
steps sounded somewhere within and then died away again. 
After waiting ten minutes, I repeated the knocking, and 
presently the door was opened. I beheld a lovely girl of 
seventeen, in a pale green dress, which brought a faint rose- 
tint to a face naturally colorless. Her light gray eyes rested 
gently on mine, and I know that I blushed with surprise 
and confusion. She did not seem to be in the least embar- 
rassed, but stood silently waiting for me to speak. 

" Is Mr. Bratton at home ? " I finally stammered. 

" Pa and Ma have gone to Carterstown this afternoon," 
said she, in the smoothest, evenest, most delicious voice I 
had ever heard. " They will be back soon ; will you walk 
in and wait ? " 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 133 

" Yes, if you please," I answered. " I think Mr. Brat- 
ton expects me ; my name is Godfrey." 

I am sure she had ah'eady guessed who I was. She be- 
trayed no sign of the fact, however, but demurely led the 
way to a comfortable sitting-room, asked me to take a seat, 
and retired, leaving me alone. I stole across the carpet to 
a small mirror between the windows, straitened the bow of 
my cravat, ran my fingers through my hair to give it a 
graceful disposition, and examined my features one by one, 
imagining how they would appear to a stranger's eye. 

I had scarcely resumed my seat before Miss Bratton re- 
turned, with a blue pitcher in one hand and a timibler in 
the other. 

" Will you have a glass of new cider, Mr. Godfrey ? " 
she asked, dropping her eyes an instant. " It 's sweet," 
she added ; " you can take it without breaking the pledge." 

" Oh, of course," I answered ; for, although I was not a 
member of a Temperance Society, I thought she might be. 
She stood near me, holding the pitcher while I drank, and 
it seemed to me that there was a noise of deglutition in my 
throat which might be heard all over the house. 

She took a seat near the opposite window, with some sort 
of net-work in her hand. I felt that it was incumbent on 
me to commence the conversation, which I did awkwardly 
enough, I suppose, her slow, even, liquid words forming a 
remarkable contrast to my rapid and random utterances. 
At length, however, I got so far as to infonn her that I 
hoped to teach in the neighboring school-house during the 
coming winter. 

" Ind-e-e-ed ! " she exclaimed, in an accent of polite, 
subdued interest. " Then we shall be neighbors ; for I 
suppose you will board at Yule's. All the schoolmasters 
do." 

" The white house with the willows ? " 

"Yes. Mr. Yule is Pa's miller. He has been there 
twenty years, I thmk Pa said. I 'm sure it was long before 



134 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

I was born. They are very respectable people, and it's 
nicer there than to board at ' The Buck.' " 

I was about to reply that the choice of the directors 
must be made before I could engage board anywhere, when 
she interrupted me with, " Oh, there 's Pa's carriage just 
turning the corner. Excuse me ! " and walked from the 
room with a swift, graceful step. 

In a few minutes I heard a heavy foot, followed by a 
rustling, along the veranda, and Mr. and Mrs. Septimus 
Bratton entered the room. The former greeted me with 
stately cordiality. " I see," said he, " that you have already 
made my daughter's acquaintance. My dear, this is Mr. 
Godfrey, whom / have recommended as our teacher this 
winter." 

Mrs. Bratton, a sharp-featured little woman, swathed in 
an immense white crape shawl, advanced and gave me her 
hand. " How d' ye do, sir ? " she piped, in a shrill voice ; 
" hope you 've not been kept long a-waiting ? " 

Then she and the daughter retired, and Mr. Bratton 
flung his hat upon the table and sat down. "I guess 
there '11 be no difficulty to-morrow," he remarked ; " I 've 
seen Bailey, one of the directors, and he 's willing to abide 
by Me. As for Carter, he thinks something of his learn- 
ing, and always has a few questions to ask ; but we had a 
poor shoat last winter, of his choosing, and so you '11 have 
the better chance. You '11 board at Yule's, but you may as 
well stay here till to-morrow, after we meet. 'T is n't good 
luck to give a baby its name before it 's christened. You 
can send up to Cardiff for your things when the matter is 
settled." 

We were presently summoned to the early tea-table of 
the country. When Mrs. Bratton was about to take her 
seat, her daughter murmured — oh, so musically ! — " Let 
me pour out, Ma — you must be tired." 

" Well, have your own way, 'Manda," said the mother ; 
" you '11 be getting your hand in, betimes." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 135 

I was first served, the lovely Amanda kindly asking me, 
" Shall I season your tea for you, Mr. Godfrey ? " 

It was the sweetest cup I had ever tasted. 

" Where 's Sep ? " suddenly asked Mr. Bratton. 

" I 've sent out to the barn and down to the mill, but 
they don't seem to find him," his wife remarked. 

" I '11 go to ' The Buck,' then ; but I won't go much 
oflener." 

I saw wife and daughter suddenly glance at him, and he 
said no more. But he was in a visible ill-humor. There 
•was a lack of lively conversation during the evening, yet to 
me the time passed delightfully. Miss Bratton, I discov- 
ered, had just returned from the celebrated School for 
Young Ladies at Bethlehem, and was considered, in Upper 
Samaria, as a model of female accomplishment. She had 
learned to write Italian hand, to paint tulips and roses on 
white velvet, to make wax-flowers, and even to play the 
piano ; and an instrument ordered by her father, at the im- 
mense price of two hundred dollars, was then on its way 
from Philadelphia. These particulars I learned afterwards 
from Mrs. Yule. During that evening, however, I saw and 
admired the brilliant bouquets in mahogany frames which 
adorned the parlor-walls. 

At nine o'clock, Mr. Bratton, who had already several 
times yawned with a loud, bellowing noise, rose, took a candle, 
and showed me to a large and very gorgeous chamber. The 
bedstead had jDillars of carved mahogany, supporting a can- 
opy with curtains, and I sank into the huge mass of feath- 
ers as into a sun-warmed cloud. I stretched myself out in 
all directions, with the luxurious certainty of not encounter- 
ing Bolty Himpel's legs, composed my mind to an unspoken 
prayer, and floated into dreams where Aunt Peggy and 
Miss Amanda Bratton had provokingly changed voices. 

The next morning, at ten o'clock, the directors met at 
the school-house. Mr. Bratton, who had charge of the key, 
opened the shutters and let out the peculiar musty smell, 



136 JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 

suggestive of mould, bread and butter, and greasy spelling- 
books, which had accumulated. He then took his seat at 
the master's desk, and laid the proposal before Messrs. 
Bailey and Carter. He read Dr. Dymond's letter of rec- 
ommendation, and finished by saying, " Mr. Godfrey, I be- 
lieve, is ready for any examination you may wish to make." 

Mr. Bailey remarked, in a sleepy voice, " I guess that 'II 
do ; " but Mr. Carter, a wiry, nervous little man, pricked 
up his ears, stroked his chin, and said, " I 've got a few 
questions to put. Spell ' inooendoJ " 

I spelled in successj^on the words " innuendo," " exhila- 
rate," " peddler," and " pony," to the gentleman's satisfac- 
tion, and gave, moreover, the case of the noun " disobe- 
dience," in the first line of " Paradise Lost," and the verb 
which governed it. Then I calculated the number of 
boards ten feet long, thirteen inches wide, and one inch 
thick, which could be sawed out of a pine log three feet in 
diameter and seventy feet long ; then the value of a hun- 
dred dollars, at compound interest, six per cent, for twenty 
years ; and, finally, the length of time it would take a man 
to walk a mile, supposing he made ten steps, two feet long, 
in a minute, and for every two steps forward took one step, 
one foot long, backwards. I think Mr. Carter would have 
been vexed if I had not made a mistake of three cents on 
the compound interest question. Furthermore, I wrote on 
a sheet of paper, " Avoid haughtiness of behavior and affec- 
tation of manners^'' as a specimen of my penmanship, and 
read aloud parts of a speech of Patrick Henry, from the 
" Columbian Orator." Geography and the various branches 
of natural philosophy were passed over in silence, and I 
was a little surprised that the fact of my never having 
taught school before was not brought forward in objection. 
After Mr. Carter had exhausted his budget of questions, I 
was requested to step outside for a few minutes while the 
directors consulted. 

When Mr. Bratton called me, I saw by his slightly in- 



JOHJT GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 137 

creased pomposity that I was accepted. His choice was 
confirmed ; and as the " poor shoat " of the previous win- 
ter had been taken on Carter's recommendation, it was 
now my patron's turn to triumph. My salary was fixed 
at twenty-five dollars a month, and t was gratified to find 
that my board and washing at Yule's would cost me but a 
dollar and a half per week. This secured me the prospect 
of a capital of some fifty or sixty dollars in the spring. 

Mr. Bratton completed his patronage by presenting me 
to the Yule family. The plain, honest face of the old miller 
made a fatherly impression upon me, and Mrs. Yule, a 
bustling, talkative woman, — a chronicle of all the past and 
present gossip of the neighborhood, — accepted me as a 
predestined member of the family. She had already put 
" the master's room " in order, she said ; it never went by 
any other name in the house, and she allowed a fire in cold 
weather, only " the master " always carried up his own 
wood, and kindled it, and raked the ashes carefully before 
going to bed ; and Daniel was going to Cardiff that very 
night for the paper, and he should take the light cart and 
bring my trunk, — so I could stop then and there, while I 
was about it. Which I did. 

" Daniel " was the older son, — a tall, lusty fellow of 
twenty-four. There was a younger, Isaac, about my own 
age, and a daughter, Susan, between the two. I met the 
whole family at dinner, and, before the meal was over, felt 
that I was fast becoming an Upper Samaritan. 



138 JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER XL 

CONTAINING BRATTON'S PARTY AND THE EPISODE OF 
THE LIME-KILN. 

When I opened school on Monday morning, I had some 
twenty pupils, mostly the younger children of the neighbor- 
ing farmers. The late autumn was unusually clear and 
mild, and the larger boys were still needed in the fields. I 
was glad of this chance, as it enabled me the more easily to 
get the machinery of the school in motion and familiarize 
myself with my duties. I recollected enough of oui com- 
mencement-days at the Cross- Keys to form my pupils into 
classes and arrange the order of exercises. So far as the 
giving of instruction was concerned, I had no misgivings, 
but I feared the natural and universal rebellion of children 
against rules which impose quiet and application of mind. 
Accordingly, I took the master's seat at my desk on a small 
raised platform, with stern gravity of countenance, and in- 
stantly checked the least tendency to whisper or giggle 
among my subjects. The process was exhausting, and I 
should like to know which side felt the greatest relief when 
the first day came to an end. 

In a short time, however, as I came to know the faces 
and dispositions of the children, I found it necessary to re- 
lax something of this assumed strictness. Dr. Dymond's 
method, which I had found so pleasant, seemed to me bet- 
ter adapted to their needs, also, and I frequently interrupted 
the regular sequence of the lessons in order to communicate 
general intelligence, especially of a geographical or histor- 
ical character, wherein" they were all lamentably deficient. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 139 

I had a great liking for oral narrative, and perhaps some 
talent in constructing it, for I always found these breaks 
more efficient to preserve order than my sternest scolding. 

I soon saw that the children enjoyed my method of in- 
struction. Many a bell-flower and fall pippin was laid upon 
my desk in the morning, and some of the girls, noticing 
that I gathered gentians and late asters in the meadows 
during their nooning, brought me bunches of chrysanthe- 
mums from their mothers' flower-beds. I should have soon 
found my place insupportable, had I been surrounded by 
hostile hearts, children's though they were, and was there- 
fore made happy by seeing that my secret favorites returned 
my affection in their own shy way. Mrs. Yule, who had a 
magnetic ear for hearing everything that was said within a 
radius of two miles, informed me that I was much better 
liked by the pupils than last winter's master, though some 
of the parents thought that I told them too many " fancy 
things." 

This was the sunny side of the business, so far as it had 
one. On the other hand I grew weary to death of enlight- 
ening the stupidity of some of the boys, and disgusted AAith 
their primitive habits. ,1 shuddered when I was obliged to 
touch their dirty, sprawling, w^arty hands, or when my eyes 
fell upon the glazed streaks on their sleeves. They sur- 
rounded me with unwashed smells, and scratched their 
heads more than was pleasant to behold. Physical beauty 
was scarce among them, and natural refinement, in any sen- 
sible degree, entirely absent. A few had frank, warm 
hearts, and hints of undeveloped nobility in their natures, 
but coarseness and selfishness were predominant. My ex- 
perience convinced me that I should never become a bene- 
factor of the human race. It was not the moral sentiment 
in the abstract, but that of certain individuals, which in- 
spired me with interest. 

My home at the white house behind the willows was a 
very agreeable one. There was a grand old kitchen, paved 



140 JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 

with flag-stones, and with a chimney large enough to con- 
tain a high-backed wooden settle, on either side of the fire. 
Here the old miller and Dan smoked their pij)es after sup- 
per, while Mrs. Yule and Susan pared apples, or set the 
bread to rise, or mixed buckwheat-batter for next morn- 
ing's cakes. I could place my tallow-candle in a little niche, 
or pocket, of the jamb, and read undisturbed, until some 
quaint lore of the neighborhood drew me from the book. 
The windows of my room in the southeastern corner of the 
house were wrapped about with the trailing willow-boughs ; 
but, as their leaves began to fall, I discovered that I should 
have a fine winter view down the valley. 

The miller was one of those quiet, unmarked natures, 
which, like certain grays in painting, are agreeable through 
their very lack of positive character. He suggested health 
— nothing else ; and his son Dan was made in his likeness. 
I did not know, then, why I liked Dan, but I suspect now 
it must have been because he had not an over-sensitive 
nerve in his body. His satisfied repose was the farthest 
vibration from my restless, excitable temperament. Susan 
was a bright, cheerful, self-possessed girl, in whose presence 
the shyest youth would have felt at ease. She was not cul- 
tivated, but neither was she ashamed of her ignorance. 
Her only aesthetic taste was for flowers ; there were no such 
pot gillyflowers and geraniums as hers in all Upper Sama- 
ria. She sewed buttons on my shirts and darned the heels 
of my stockings before my very eyes. It was rumored that 
she was engaged to Ben Hannaford, a young farmer over 
the hill to the north ; but she spoke of him in so straight- 
forward and unembarrassed a way that I judged it could 
not be possible. Still, it was a fact that a fire was made in 
the best sitting-room every Sunday night, and that both 
Ben and Susan somehow disappeared from the kitchen. 

The ways of the neighborhood were exceedingly social. 
There were frequent " gatherings " (" getherin's " was the 
popular term) of the younger people, generally on Saturday 



JOHN- GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 141 

evenings. The first wliich I attended was given by Miss 
Amanda Bratton, about three weeks after my arrival. The 
impulse thereto was furnished, I imagine, by the arrival of 
the new piano from Philadelphia. Everybody on the main 
road, from Carterstown up to the Buck Tavern, had seen 
the wagon with the great box lying on trusses of straw, as 
it passed along, and the news had gone far to right and left 
before it was announced that " Squire Bratton's " house 
would be open. Pianos were not common in Upper Sa- 
maria ; indeed there were none nearer than Carterstown, 
and the young men and women were unaccustomed to 
other music than the flute and violin. Miss Amanda, on 
her father's hint, was profuse in her invitations ; he knew 
that the party would be much talked about, both before 
and after its occurrence. 

I walked over with Dan and Susan Yule, at dusk, and 
found the company already arriving. The hall-door was 
open, and we were received at the entrance to the parlor by 
Miss Amanda, who looked lovely in a pale-violet silk. She 
gave me her hand with the composure of an old acquaint- 
ance, and I took it with a thrill of foolish happiness. 

" He 's not come yet. Sue," said she. " Mr. Godfrey, let 
me introduce you to the gentlemen." 

I was presented to five or six sturdy fellows, each of 
whom gave me a tremendous grip of a large, hard hand, and 
then sat do^m in silence. They were ranged along one side 
of the parlor-wall, while the ladies formed a row on the op- 
posite side, occasionally whispering to each other below 
their breath. I took my seat at one end of the male col- 
umn, and entered into conversation with my neighbor, which 
he accepted in a friendly and subdued manner. No one, I 
think, quite ventured to use his natural volume of voice ex- 
cept young Septimus, or Sep Bratton, who dodged back 
and forth with loud explosions of shallow wit and unjustifi- 
able laughter. Many eyes were directed to the piano, which 
stood open at the end of the room, and it was evident that 



142 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

the tone of the company would be solemn expectation until 
the instrument had been heard. 

Squire Bratton, in a high stock and sharp, standing col- 
lar, moved majestically about, greeting each fresh arrival 
with a mixture of urbanity and condescension. When all 
the chairs which could be comfortably placed were filled 
and the gentlemen were obliged to stand, the company 
began to break into groups and grow more animated. 
Then Miss Amanda was importuned to play. 

" Oh, I 'm really afraid, before so many ! " she exclaimed, 
with a modesty which charmed me ; " besides, the piano is 
hardly fit to be played on, is it, Pa ? " 

" Hm — well," said her father, " I believe it is a little 
out of chune, from being jolted on the road, but I guess our 
friends would make allowance for that." 

" Oh, yes ! " " We sha'n't notice it ! " eagerly burst from 
a dozen voices. 

After some further solicitation, Miss Amanda took her 
seat, and a breathless silence filled the room. She struck 
two or three chords, then suddenly ceased, saying, " Oh, I 
can't ! I shall shock you ; the G is so flat ! " 

" Go on ! " " It 's splendid ! " and various other encour- 
aging cries again arose. 

I happened to be standing near the piano, and she 
caught my eye, expressing its share of the general expect- 
ancy. 

" Must I, indeed, Mr. Godfrey ? " she asked, in a help- 
less, appealing tone. " What shall it be ? " 

" Tour favorite air. Miss Bratton," I answered. 

She turned to the keys again, and, after a short prelude, 
played the Druids' March from " Norma," boldly and with 
a strongly accented rhythm. I was astonished at the deli- 
cacy of her ear, for I should not have known but that the 
instrument was in very good tune. 

When she had finished, the expressions of delight were 
loud and long, and " more " was imperiously demanded, 
coupled with a request for a song. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 143 

This time she gave us " Oh, come o'er the Moonlit 
Sea, Love," and " The Dream is Past " ; and I knew not 
which most to admire, — the airy, dancing, tinlding brill- 
iancy of the first, or the passion and sorrow of the second. 
No one, I thought, could sing that song without feeling the 
words in their tragic intensity : Miss Bratton must have a 
heart like Zui^ika or Grulnare. 

I believe I made a good appearance, as contrasted with 
the other young men present. I had fastened my cravat 
with a small coral pin which had belonged to my mother, 
and this constituted a distinguishing mark which drew 
many eyes upon me. Little by little, I was introduced to 
all the company, and was drawn into the lively chatter 
which, in such communities, takes the place of wit and 
sentiment. Among others, Susan Yule presented me to 
Miss Verbena Cuff, a plump, rattling girl, who was not 
afraid to poke a fellow in the ribs with her forefinger, and 
say, " Oh, go 'long, now ! " when anything funny was said. 
She had the fullest, ripest lips, the largest and whitest 
teeth, and the roundest chin, of any girl there. 

After the refreshments — consisting of lemonade, new 
cider, and four kinds of cakes — were handed around, we 
all became entirely merry and unconstrained. I had never 
before " assisted " at a party of the kind, except as a juve- 
nile spectator, and my enjoyment was therefore immense. 
Nothing more was needed to convince me that I was a full- 
grown man. Whenever I put my hand to my chin I was 
conscious of a delightful, sand-papery feeling, which showed 
that the down I so carefully scrajDcd off was beginning to 
acquire strength, and would soon display masculine sub- 
stance and color. My freckles were all gone, and, as 
Neighbor Niles had always prophesied, left a smooth, fair 
skin behind them. I was greatly delighted on hearing one 
of the girls whisper, " He 's quite good-looking." Of course 
she referred to me. 

JMiss Amanda's album, gilt-edged and gorgeously bound 



144 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

in red morocco, lay ujDon a side-table under the mirror. I 
picked it up and looked over its contents, in company 
with Miss Verbena Cuff. The leaves were softly tinted 
with pink, green, buff, and blue, and there were both steel 
engravings and bunches of flowers lithographed in colors. 
]\iiss Verbena stayed my hand at one of the pictures, rep- 
resenting a youth in Glengarry bonnet and knee-breeches, 
with one arm round a maiden, whose waist came just un- 
der her shoulders, while he waved the other arm over a 
wheat-field. In the air above them two large birds were 
flying. 

The title of the picture was, " Now Westlin' Win's." 

" Mr. Godfrey," said Miss Verbena, " I want you to tell 
me what this picture means ; she won't. / say ' Westlin' ' 
is the name of one o' the birds ; they 're flyin' a race, and 
he thinks ' Westlin' ' will win it. What do you say ? " 

I looked up, and saw that " she " was standing near us, 
listening. I smiled significantly, with a side-glance at Miss 
Verbena. My smile was returned, yet with an expression 
of tender deprecation, which I interpreted as saying, 
" Don't expose her ignorance." I accordingly answered, 
with horrid hypocrisy, — 

" You may be right. Miss Cuff. I never saw the picture 
before." Again we exchanged delicious glances. 

I turned over the leaves, and presently stmnbled on the 
name of " Susan Yule." She had written — 

" Oh, Amanda, wlien I 'm far away, 

To taste the scenes of other climes, 
And when fond IMemory claims its sway. 

And tells thee then of happier times, — 
Oh, let a Tear of Sorrow blend 
With memory of thy absent Friend." 

I was greatly diverted with the idea of good, plain, 
simple-hearted Susan Yule, whose thoughts never crossed 
the township-line of Upper Samaria, going away to taste 
the scenes of other clunes, but I did my best, for her sake, 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 145 

to preserve a serious countenance. I was rather surprised 
to find, on looking further, that both Mattie McElroy and 
Jemima Ann Hutchins had written precisely the same 
lines. 

" Why," I exclaimed, " here it is again ! I thought the 
verse was original. There must be a great scarcity of 
album poetry, Miss Bratton." 

"Ye-e-es," she answered, in a gentle drawl. "We all 
found it so at school. I 'm sure I went over the ' Elegant 
Extracts ' ever so many times, but .there was so little that 
would suit. I think it 's so niuch nicer to have original 
poetry ! don't you ? " 

I assented most enthusiastically. 

" Perhaps you write poetry, Mr. Godfrey ? " she con- 
tinued. 

I blushed and stammered, longing, yet shy to confess 
the blissful truth. 

" He, he ! " giggled Miss Verbena Cuff, giving me a 
poke with her forefinger ; " he does ! he does ! I '11 bet 
anything on it. Make him write something in your book, 
'Manda!" 

" Won't you ? " murmured Miss Amanda, fixing her soft, 
pale eyes full upon mine. 

I blushed all over, this time. The red flushed my skin 
down to my very toes. My eyelids fell before the angelic 
gaze, and I muttered something about being very happy, 
and I would try, but I was afraid she would n't be satisfied 
with it afterwards. 

" But it must be right out of your own head, mind," 
Miss Cuff insisted. 

" Of course," said Miss Bratton, with slight but very be- 
coming hauteur. 

" And then you must write something for me. We won't 
say anything about it to the other girls, 'Manda, till they 're 
finished." 

I was n't very well pleased with this proposition, and it 

10 



146 JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 

seemed to me, also, that the merest gossamer of a shade 
flitted across Miss Bratton's smooth brow. Still, it was 
impossible to refuse, and I endeavored to promise with a 
good grace. 

" Mine has the language of flowers," said Verbena ; " I 'm 
so sorry that the Eose is already writ. I 'd have liked you 
to take that. There 's Pink and Honeysuckle left, and 
something else that I disremember. I '11 show you the 
book first." 

Later in the evening, it happened that Miss Bratton and 
I came together again, with' nobody very near us. I made 
instant use of the opportunity, to confirm the confidential 
relation which I imagined was already established between 
us. " I understood you," I said ; " did you ever hear such 
an absurd idea as she had ? " 

She was evidently puzzled, but not startled. Nothing, 
in fact, seemed to agitate her serene, self-poised, maidenly 
nature. " Oh, the picture ? " she said, at last ; " very ab- 
surd, indeed." 

" You know the poem, of course ? " I continued. 

" Yes," (slightly smiling,) " I read it, long ago, but I 've 
forgotten how it goes. Won't you write it down for me ? " 

I assented at once, though to do so implied the purchase 
of a copy of Burns, which I did not possess. How grate- 
ful it was to find one in that material crowd who knew and 
reverenced the immortal bards among whom I hoped to 
inscribe my name ! 

" I '11 bring it over to you, some evening ! " I exclaimed. 

She smiled sweet]y, but said noftiing. 

" I am so glad you are fond of poetry ! Do you ever see 
the Saturday Eveni7ig Post ? " 

" Yes ; Pa takes it for me. There are such siveet poems 
in it, — and the tales, too ! " 

Here we were interrupted, but I had heard enough to 
turn my head. She had certainly read " The Unknown 
Bard " and all the other productions of " Selim " ! They 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 147 

were among the poems, and, of course, they too were 
" sweet." 

The party broke up at midnight, and I had the pleasure 
of escortino^ Miss Verbena Cuff across the stream to Yule's 
Mill, where her brother Tom had left his horse and vehicle. 
We started with Dan and Susan Yule, but had scarcely 
left Bratton's veranda, before Miss Verbena took my arm 
and whispered, " Let 's hang back a little ; I want to tell 
you something." 

I hung back, as desired, and we were soon alone under 
the dark, starry sky. I was wrapped in dreams of Miss 
Amanda Bratton, the touch of whose slender fingers still 
burned on my right palm. Hence I did not manifest the 
curiosity which my companion no doubt awaited, for after 
walking a few rods in silence, she said, giving me a jog 
of her elbow, — 

" Well — what do you think it is ? " 

Thus admonished, I confessed my inability to guess. 

" I '11 tell you, but don't you tell nobody. Tom 's going 
to set the last kiln a-burning, Friday morning, and there '11 
be a bully blaze by Saturday night. You know our house, 
don't you ? — stands on the left, a mile and a half this side 
of Carterstown, — stone, with brick chimbleys, and the barn 
t' other side of the road : you can't miss it. Now, I want 
you to come, and we '11 have some fun. There won't be 
many,' and I don't want it to get out, — I 'd rather it would 
seem accidental like. We had a getherin' three weeks 
ago, but, you know, when the kiln 's afire, it seems to 'liven 
people up. Some say, the more the merrier, but it a'n't 
always so." 

Here she gave my arm an interrogative clutch ; and I, 
thinking of Milton's " fit audience, though few," answered, 
" No, indeed, Miss Cuff; it 's also true that the fewer the 
nearer in heart." 

" Then you '11 come ? You '11 be sure and keep your 
word ? " 



148 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

I had not yet given my word, but the prospect of a select 
few assembled around the burning lime-kiln was weird, 
poetic, and by no means unwelcome. Of course Amanda 
Bratton would be one of the few, and I already speculated 
how wonderfully her calm face would appear in the blue 
gleam of the fire, against a background of night. I there- 
fore exclaimed, — 

« Oh, I shall be delighted ! " 

" And you won't say anything ? " 

" Not a word ! " 

" Don't even tell Yules. I like Susan very much, but 
her fortune 's made, they say, and I only want them that 
can take an interest in each other. You understand, don't 
you?" 

Again I felt the powerful squeeze of her arm, and invol- 
untarily returned it. She hung upon and leaned against 
me quite alarmingly after that, but a few more steps 
brought us around the mill to the hitching-post at Yule's 
gate, where Tom Cuff, whip in hand, stood awaiting her. 

" It 's late, Sis, and we must be off. ( Finish your spark- 
in', quick," he growled, in a coarse voice. 

He thereupon turned his back, and Miss Verbena, giving 
me her hand, looked into my face in a momentary attitude 
/of expectation which I did not understand. She jerked 
away her hand again rather hastily, whispered — " Don't 
forget — next Saturday night ! " and then added, aloud, 
« Good night, Mr. Godfrey !" 

" Good night, Miss Cuff ! " I replied, and they drove 
away as I was mounting the projecting steps in the stone 
wall. 

That week I made use of " the master's " privilege, and, 
beside a fire in my bedroom, devoted myself to the com- 
position of a poem for Miss Bratton's album. I wrote four, 
and was then uncertain which to choose, or whether any 
one of them was worthy of its destined place. I finally 
fixed upon one entitled " A Parable," which represented 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 149 

a wandering bird of sweet song in a cold, dark forest where 
the trees paid no heed to his lays. But just as he was be- 
coming silent forever, from desj^air of a listener, he saw a 
lovely flower lift up its head, open the lips of its blushing 
petals, and ask him to sing ; so he built his nest at her feet, 
and piped his sweetest song in the fragrance of her being. 
" She will understand it ! " I said to myself, in triumph ; 
" and to the obscure, unpoetic minds around her it will 
simply be a bit of fancy. Wliat a godUke art is the Poet's ! " 
Then I sang, to a tune of my own invention, — 

" Drink to her who long 

Has waked the Poet's sigh, 
The girl who gave to song 
What Gold could never buy! " 

Meanwhile, the week drew to an end, and as Saturday 
afternoon was always a holiday for the school, I had ample 
time to prepare myself for the visit to Cuff's. Inasmuch 
as the Yule family was ignorant of the proposed calcareous 
party, I was a little puzzled how to get away without being 
observed. Also, how to get into the house, if I should not 
return before midnight. I made up my mind, at last, to 
inform Dan, upon whose silence I knew I could rely. I 
found him in the mill, white with the dust of floating meal, 
and the hopper made such a clatter that I was forced to 
put my mouth to his ear, and half scream the fact that I 
expected to be away from home in the evening. He nod- 
ded and smiled, remarking the sheepish expression of my 
face, and, coming close to me, said, " Shall I leave the 
back-entry door open ? " ^ -"'' . 

''And don't say anything, about it, please?" I added. 

His simple grin was as good as anybody else's oath ; so, 
completely assured, I made myself ready during the after- 
noon, in every respect but the coat, which I whipped on 
after supper. Stealing out by the back door, I jumped 
over the garden-wall and took my way down the valley. 

It was a sharp, frosty night in the beginning of Decem- 



150 JOHI^ GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

ber, and I walked briskly forward, busy with imaginary 
scenes and conversations, in which Amanda Bratton had 
an important share. It was a habit of my mind — and still 
is — to create all presumed situations in advance, and pre- 
pare myself for the part I expected to play in them. I 
must frankly confess to the reader, however, that the inter- 
\ ference of some avenging Nemesis always darkens this vol- 
untary clairvoyance, and spoils my tags and cues. Hence 
all my best remarks have never been uttered, my most 
brilliant humor has rusted in its sheath, and with undoubted 
capacity to sparkle in conversation (if the occasions would 
; only arise as I project them in advance), I have never 
achieved more than an average reputation as a talker. 
How my anticipations on this particular evening were ful- 
filled, I shall now proceed to relate. 

As the distance to Carterstown was four miles. Cuff's 
house and lime-kiln must therefore be two and a half miles 
from Yule's Mill, a walk of three quarters of an hour. I 
had not been down the road before, but I supposed that 
the burning kiln would be as a banner hung out, afar off, 
to guide my steps. On I went, passing many houses on one 
side of the road, with their barns on the other, but no blue 
blaze showed itself, and I began to suspect that I was on 
the wrong road. A wide stream, coming down through the 
hills on the left, arrested my way, until I discovered a high 
log and hand-rail on one side, and felt my way over in the 
dark. Just beyond this stream stood another house on the 
left, on a bold knoll, through which the road was cut. The 
shrubs in the front yard rustled darkly over the top of a 
lofty stone wall. 

As I approached this point, a huge dog sprang down from 
above and commenced barking furiously. Having no means 
of defence, I stood still, and the animal planted himself in 
the middle of the road as if determined to bar my advance. 
Presently I heard a whistle from the top of the wall, and a 
stern female voice exclaimed, " Be quiet, Roger ! " 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 151 

I started. It was surely the voice of Miss Verbena CufF. 
The next moment she herself suddenly appeared in the 
road at my side, and I heard a whisper, " Is it you ? " 

" Yes," I said ; " do you live here ? I was afraid I should 
not find the house." 

Taking my hand, she led me to a break in the wall, up 
which ran a steep flight of stone steps. When I had gained 
the top, I found myself on the knoll in front of the house, 
and saw a flickering cone of blue and scarlet fire at the 
foot of the slope beyond. 

"A'n't that a blaze ? " said Miss Verbena ; " I never get 
tired a-looking at it. It 's Tom's turn to tend the fire to- 
night, so he won't be in the way. Tom 's rather rough, he 
is." 

" ' Men scarcely know how beautiful fire is,' " I said, 
quoting Shelley. " It looks as if a little volcano had broken 
up out of the earth. See, that 's the crater, at the top. 
Are you not afraid of the lava bursting out ? " 

" Go along, you ! " was her answer, as she gave me a poke 
in the ribs. " Come in the side-door, into the setting-room. 
I did n't make a fire in the parlor, because I was n't quite 
sure you 'd come. But I '11 bring in some wood, right away, 
and then run up-stairs and fix myself in no time." 

She ushered me into the sitting-room, which was dimly 
lighted by a single tallow-candle. An old woman, with a 
curious cap and no upper teeth, sat in a high-backed rock- 
ing-chair, knitting. She must have been very deaf, for 
Miss Verbena stooped down and shouted in her ear, " Moth- 
er, this is Mr. Godfrey, the schoolmaster at Yule's Mill ! " 

The old woman looked at me with a silly smile, nodded, 
and murmured to herself as she resumed her knitting, 
" Yes, yes ; young people will be young people. I s'pose 
I 'm in the way now." 

' In a fcAV minutes she rose and retired to the kitchen, and 
Miss Verbena, following her, soon reaj^peared with an arm- 
ful of sticks and chips, and a piece of candle which she 



152 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

managed to hold between two of her fingers. I ought to 
have gone and opened the parlor-door for her, but I was 
struck dumb at my reception, and sat like a fool while she 
pressed down the handle of the lock with her elbow and 
pushed the door open with her foot. Good heavens ! I 
thought, what does it all mean ? There is nobody else here, 
and it looks as if nobody was expected ! She is making a 
fire in the parlor and she is going to " fix herself in no ^ 
time " — only for me* ? Why, when the old woman goes 
into the kitchen, and the big brother stays at the lime-kiln, ^ 

and the young man and the young woman sit by themselves 
in the best parlor, it 's " keeping company " — it 's " court- 
ing"! (l^^^^^ 

Instead^' of Irembling with delight, I shivered with fear. 
Miss Verbena Cuff was no longer a buxom, rollicking dam- 
sel, but a young. Dgr ess, who had lured me into her den and 
would tear me with relentless claws until I purchased my \ L, 
deliverance with sweet words and caresses. I knew that 
" courting " implied such familiarities ; I had often heard 
that even candles were not necessary to its performance ; . 
and in my boyish ignorance I had always supposed that the 
sentiment of love, upon one side at least, must precede the 
custom. I did not know that in many parts of the country 
it was a common expedient, indifferently practised, to de- 
termine whether the parties were likely to love each other. 
A kiss or a hug, now and then, was not looked upon as a 
committal of the heart to a serious attachment ; such things 
were cheap coins, used publicly in forfeits and other games, 
and might be exchanged privately without loss to cither's 
emotional property. 

No ; I was haunted by a sofler and sweeter image than 
that of Verbena Cuff, — a pure, ideal flame, which her lips, 
red and full as they were, seemed pursed to blow out. 
Every fibre of my heart tingled and trembled with alarm. 

When she returned from the parlor, she brought her 
album and gave it to me. The back was covered with 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 153 

green and brown calico, to preserve the morocco binding. 
" That 's the flower I could n't remember/' said she, open- 
ing the book at a lithographed ranunculus ; " it looks just 
like our butter-ball in the graf-den." 

On turning over the leaves, my eye caught the name of 
Amanda Bratton. Ah, I said to myself, let me read her 
selection. It commenced, — 

" Verbena, when I 'm far away," &c. 

" Wliat exquisite irony ! " I thought. " She is too culti- 
vated to cast pearls before swine." 

All at once Tom Cuff came in, with a black jug in one 
hand. He twisted his mouth when he saw me, but gave 
me his hand and said, " How are you. Master Godfrey ? " 

I returned his greeting with a dignified air. 

" Sis ! " he called, " more cider ! It 's mortal hot work, 
and makes a fellow dry. Bring Godfrey a "swig, while 
you're about it." 

The cider was soon forthcoming, and so sharp and hard 
that it made me wink. Tom took up his jug and started, 
but halted at the door and said to me, " When you 're tired 
talking to Sis, you may come down and look at the kiln. 
I 've put in some big chunks, and it 's bumin' like all hell ! '* 

" I '11 come ! " I answered ; " I want to see it." 

Here was a chance of escape, and I recovered my cour- 
age. I informed Miss Verbena that I would write some- 
thing for her which would suit the lily of the valley. I 
should have preferred the verbena, but I saw that some- 
body had been before me, — somebody, I added, who no 
doubt had a better right. 

" Oh, go along, now ! shut up ! it a'n't so ! " cried the 
energetic maiden, giving me a poke which took away my 
breath. 

She bustled about a little more, arranging some house- 
hold matters, and then came and stood before me, saying, 
" Now I 'm done work ; don't I look like a fright ? " 



// 



154 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" No : you could n't do that if you were to try," I gal- 
lantly answered. 

"None of your soft soap so soon in the evening!" she 
retorted. " Now I ISi going up-stairs to fix. You 'd better 
sneak into the parlor ; it 's nice and warm." 

" I guess I '11 step down and call on Tom. I want to 
have a look at the kiln." 

" Well — don't stay more than ten minutes." 

This I promised, solemnly intending to keep my word. 
I went out the opposite door, opened a gate in the paling, 
and found myself in a sloping field. The top of the kiln 
glimmered in wreaths of colored flame, just below me, and 
I could see Tom's brawny form moving about in the light 
which streamed from the mouth, at the foot of the knoll. 
I walked first to the top, inhaled the pungent gas which 
arose from the calcining stones, and meditated how I should 
escape. The big dog had followed me, and was walking 
about, sniffing suspiciously and occasionally uttering a low 
growl. To quiet him, first of all, I went down to Tom, 
took a pull at his jug, and commented on the grandeur of 
the fire. 

" Yes, it 's good now for half an hour," he said. " I 'm 
agoin' to take a snooze. You 'd better go back to the 
house — Sis '11 be expectin' you." 

" I will go hack,'^ I answered. 

He lay down on a warm heap of sand and slaked lime, 
and I climbed again to the burning crest of the kiln. The 
big dog was there still ! but I saw a fence before me, and 
knew that the road was beyond. I walked rapidly away, 
and had my hand on the topmost rail, when the beast gave 
a howl and bounded after me. Over I sprang, and started 
to run, but I had totally forgotten that the road had been 
cut into the side of the knoll, leaving a bank some fifteen 
or twenty feet deep. My first step, therefore, touched air 
instead of earth : over and over I went, crashing through 
briers and mullein-stalks, and loosening stones, which rat- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 155 

tied after me, until I brought up, with a thundering shock, 
in the gutter below. I was on my feet in an instant, and 
tearing at full speed past the wall in front of the house, on 
the top of which I saw the dusky outline of the dog, spring- 
ing towards the steps. There was a light at an upper win- 
dow, and I fancied that I heard the sash raised. In less 
time than it has taken to write these lines, I had reached 
the creek and splashed through it, without taking time to 
find the log. The water, fortunately, was only mid-leg 
deep. Then I rushed forward again, stopping neither to 
think nor take breath, until the fainter barking of the dog 
showed that he had given up the chase. 

How I had escaped cuts, bruises, or broken bones seemed 
a miracle, but I was sound in every limb. I cannot now 
pretend to unravel the confusion of thought in which I 
walked slowly homewards. Was my fine-strung, excitable 
nature a blessing or a curse ? Had I acted as a wise man 
or a fool ? I strongly suspected the latter ; I had, at least, 
betrayed a weakness at utter variance with my pretensions 
to manhood, and which would render it impossible for me 
ever again to meet either Yerbena or Tom Cuff without 
feeling abashed and humiliated. I had run away, like a 
coward, from the possibility of a situation which, in itself, 
would have been, at the worst, a harmless diversion in the 
eyes of the world. I was not forced to bestow the kisses 
and hugs I foreboded ; a little self-possession on my part 
was all that was necessary to give the visit a cool, Platonic 
character, and I should have carried home my unprofaned 
ideal. I imagined what Dan Yule would do in a similar 
case, and admitted to myself that he would get out of the 
scrape in a much more sensible way than I had done. 

On the other hand, the aforementioned ideal was flat- 
tered. I had saved it from even the susj^icion of danger, 
— had braved ridicule, worse than hostility, for the sake of 
keeping it pure. I was made of better clay than the men 
around me, and ought to be proud of it. 



156 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Wlien I reached home, the family had not yet gone to 
bed. Nevertheless, T entered by the back-entry door, 
which I found unlocked, stole to my room, kindled a fire, 
and changed my coat, — my best coat, alas ! which was 
much soiled, and torn in two or three places. When I had 
become composed, I went down to the kitchen, on the pre- 
tence of getting a glass of water, but in reality to make the 
family suppose that I had been spending the evening in my 
own room. 

Dan looked at me with a very queer expression, but he 
asked me no questions, and it was many days before I con- 
fided to him my adventure. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 15' 



/ 



CHAPTER XII. 

IN WHICH LOVE AND LITERATURE STIMULATE EACH 
OTHER. 

It must not be supposed that my literary ambition had 
slumbered during all this time. Some four or five of my 
poems had been published, — the last two, to my great sat- 
isfaction, without editorial correction ; and moreover, a 
story of the Colonial days, entitled " The Wizard of Per- 
kiomen," was announced as accepted. My first timidity to 
be known as an author was rapidly wearing away. I began 
to wish that somebody would suspect me of being " Selim," 
but alas ! who was there of sufficient taste and penetration 
to make the discovery ? Would not Miss Amanda Bratton, 
at least, recognize in the " Parable " I had written for her 
album the same strings which vibrated in the " Unknown 
Bard ? " To make assurance doubly sure, however, I at- 
tached to the next poem I forwarded to Philadelphia, after 
the signature of " Selim," the local address, " Yule's Mill, 
Berks County, Pa." This would settle the matter for- 
ever. 

My mind the more easily habituated itself to literary ex- 
pression from the isolation, whether real or imagined, in 
which I lived. I learned to confide to paper the thoughts 
which I judged no one around me (except, perhaps, one 
whom I dared not approach) was worthy to share. My 
treasures accumulated much more rapidly than I could dis- 
pose of them ; but I looked upon them as so much availa- 
ble capital, to be used at the proper time. I had no further 
doubt of my true vocation, but what r^nk I should attain in 



158 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

it was a question which sometimes troubled me. I lacked 
patience to toil for years in obscurity, looking forward to 
the distant day when recognition must come, because it had 
been fairly earned. My energy was of that kind which 
flags without immediate praise. 

There was now, as the reader may have suspected, an 
additional spur to my impatience. My heart was pitched 
to the key of a certain sweet, subdued, even-toned voice. 
I was jubilant with the consciousness that the one passion 
which is not only permitted to authors, but is considered 
actually necessary to their development, had come at last 
to quicken and inspire me. It was a vague, misty, delicious 
sensation, scorning to be put into tangible form, or to clothe 
its yearnings, with the material aspects of life. There was 
poison in the thought of settlements, income, housekeeping 
details; I turned away with an inward shudder, if such 
things were accidentally suggested to my mind. My love 
laourished itself upon dew, odors, and flute-like melodies. 

I took the album back to Miss Amanda with a tremor 
of mingled doubt and hope. She read the lines slowly, 
and as she approached the bottom of the page I turned 
away my eyes and waited, with my heart in my mouth, for 
her voice. 

" Oh, it is so pretty ! " she said ; " there is nothing so 
nice in the book. You do write beautifully, Mr. Godfrey. 
Have you composed anything for Verbena Cuff?" 

She put the question in a careless way, which satisfied 
me that there was not the least jealousy or selfishness in 
her nature. So far as my hopes were concerned, I should 
have been better satisfied if she had betrayed a slight 
tinge of the former emotion ; but, on after-reflection, I de- 
cided that I liked her all the better for the unsuspicious 
truth and frankness of her nature. 

" I could n't avoid it, you know, after promising," I said. 

" I wish you would let me see it." 

" I have no copy \^th me," I replied ; " but I have the 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 159 

lines in my head. I wrote them for the lily of the valley, 
which, you know, means ' Humility ' : — 

" ' My dwelling is the forest shade, 

Beside the streamlet wandering free ; 
'T is thei'e, in modest green arrayed, 
I hide my blossoms from the bee. 

)'■ ' But thou dost make the garden fair. 

Where noonday sunbeams round thee fall ; 
How should the shrinking Lily dare 
To hear the gay Verbena's call? ' 

You notice the irony ? " 

"Yes," she answered, after a pause. "It's a shame." 
But she smiled sweetly, as she said so. 

" Oh, you don't know," I cried, in transport, — " you don't 
know. Miss Bratton, how grateful it is to find a mind that 
can understand you ! To find intelligence, and poetic feel- 
ing, and — and — " 

I paused, not knowing how to make the climax. 

" Yes," she replied, casting down her eyes, and with a 
mournful inflection of voice which went to my soul, " I un- 
derstand it, from my own experience." 

What more I should have said, with this encouragement, 
I know not, for Mrs. Bratton put her head. into the room, 
announcing, " Tea, 'Manda. Mr. Godfrey, will you set 

This was one of her peculiar phrases, which would have 
provoked my mirth, had she not been the mother of her 
daughter. But, as she was, I thought it quaint and origi- 
nal. Another expression was, " Take off some o' the but- 
ter," or whatever dish it might be. I accepted the invita- 
tion, although my pleasure at having my tea " seasoned " 
by Miss Amanda was greatly lessened by the presence of 
young Sep, in a state of exhilaration. He had just come 
up from the Buck Tavern, and was in a humor for any 
devilment. It pleased him, in addressing me, to abbre- 
viate my family-name in a way which made his remarks 



160 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

seem shockingly profane. This he thought the perfection 
of wit, and he roared every time he uttered it. 

Miss Amanda looked pained, as well she might be, and 
over and over again exclaimed, " Don't, Sep ! " — but to 
no purpose. I thought this was bad enough, but worse was 
to come. 

"I say, ," (I will not write the syllable he used), 

" I saw Tom Cuff at the 'Buck to-day. He says the lime- 
kiln 's done burning." Then he winked at me, and burst 
into a hoarse laugh. 

I sat, frozen with horror. 

" Lime-kiln ? " was all I could say, hoping my confusion 
might pass for ignorance in the pale, steady eyes which 
must certainly be fixed on my face. 

" You did n't know they had one, I reckon ! " he contin- 
ued. "Well, — I won't tell tales out of school, even 
against the schoolmaster." 

I caught Miss Amanda's look, which asked, " What does 
he mean ? " Explanation, however, was impossible at the 
time, and I said nothing. Sep's thoughts presently turned 
into another channel, and my torment ceased, though not 
my apprehensions as to the impression he had produced 
on somebody else. 

I did not dare to call too frequently, and several days 
elapsed before I could make an explanation. I approached 
the subject clumsily enough, feeling that my allusion to it 
was a half-confession of misdemeanor, yet too disturbed to 
take the opposite course, and ignore it. Of course, I omit- 
ted the catastrophe of the evening, making the album ac- 
count for my visit, and hinting, as delicately as possible, 
that I had expected to meet Miss Bratton at Cuff's. How 
I was relieved to find that I had misinterpreted the latter's 
glance at the tea-table ! She had attached no meaning to 
her brother's remark, — had, in fact, forgotten all about it ! 
Now that I mentioned the matter, she had an indistinct 
recollection of something about Tom Cuff and a lime-kiln ; 



JOHX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 161 

but Sep had such a way of blurting out everything that 
came into his head ! She knew, moreover, how " people " 
always talked, making mountains out of mole-hills, — but 
Verbena Cuff was reckoned to te quite a nice girl, and I 
need not,object to have it known that I visited her now and 
then. 

I affimied, with great earnestness, that I hoped I should 
never see her again. 

" Why, you seem to have quite a prejudice against her, 
Mr. Godfrey," said Miss Amanda. " She is a good-hearted 
creature, I assure you, with, perhaps, a little — though 
it may be wrong in me to say it — a little want of polish. 
That is a common want in Upper Samaria, however, and 
maybe we all have it in your eyes." 

"Oh, Miss Amanda — Miss Bratton!" I remonstrated, 
" not all! You are unjust to yourself, and to me, if you 
imagine I could think so. Your generosity will not allow 
you to admit Verbena Cuff's coarseness and boldness of 
manner ; you cannot feel the conS'ast as / do. It is just 
because some others are cultivated, and refined, and pure- 
spirited, that her ignorance is so repulsive to me ! " 

She cast down her eyes, and was silent for a minute. 
Then she spoke in that gentle, deliberate way which so 
charmed me : " Ye-es, there are others who have risen 
above those who surround them. You \d\\ find them here 
and there." 

This was taking up my words altogether too literally. I 
had spoken, it is true, in the plural, but my heart meant a 
singular. In her perfect modesty, — her ignorance of her 
own spiritual value, — she had misunderstood me. I did 
not admire her the less for this quality, though I felt that 
all my indirect professions, hitherto, must have failed to 
reach her maidenly consciousness. 

Wliile I was uneasily shifting my cap from one hand to 
another, uncertain whether to continue the subject, or give 
our conversation another direction, she took up a paper 
11 



162 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

which lay on the table beside her, unfolded it, and asked, 
with a bewitching air of pleasantry, — / J ( 

« Mr. Godfrey, do you know who ' Selim ' is ? " - ^^yfy^^ 
I had not yet received my copy from the post-omce 
at Cardiff, and was therefore ignorant that my po^m, enti- 
tled " The Lament of Hero, after the Drowning of Lean- 
der," commencing, — 

"Ay, howl ye Hellespontic waves! " 

had been printed in the number for that week ; but a 
glance at the first page, as she held it towards me, showed 
the success of my stratagem. I was discovered at last. 
There, under " Selim," was the address, " Yule's Mill, 
Berks County." I will not describe my sensations at that 
moment. I have understood ever since how a young girl 
must feel when the man her heart has chosen unexpectedly 
declares his own attachment. 

" Have you read it ? Do you like it ? " I breathlessly 
asked. * 

"Yes, indeed, — it is lovely! I knew you must be a 
poet, Mr. Godfrey. I saw the Belvidere Bard- at Bethle- 
hem. He visited our school ; and he had eyes with the 
same expression as you have. There 's something about 
poets that distinguishes them from common people." 

My own thought ! Was I not, like Byron, not altogether 
made of such mean clay as rots into the souls of those 
whom I survey ? And she, who stood as far above the rest 
of her sex in that secluded valley as I stood above mine, 
was the first — the only one — to recognize my nobiKty. 
Only the exiled Princess knew, under his rags, the lofty 
bearing of the exiled Prince ! Oh, could I but woo her to 
return my sprouting love, I would immortalize her in future 
song, — she should be my Hinda, my Medora, my Astarte, 
my Ellen of the Lake ! After Burns and his Highland 
Mary, should be written the names of Godfrey and his 
Amanda. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 163 

There was no end, that night, to my preposterous dreams. 
As I recall them, I know not whether to weep or laugh. 
The puny lily of my imaginative faculty seemed destined 
to fill the world mth its fragrance, and I could not see that 
it was rooted, no less than the pig-weed, in the common 
mud. I had yet to learn that the finer clay, upon which I 
congratulated myself, is more easily soiled by the Devil's 
fingers than one of coarser grit, — that neither do such 
natures as mine monopolize the beauty, the romance, and 
the tragedy of life, nor are they exempt from the tempta- 
tions which assail the ignorant, the excesses committed by 
the vulgar. 

The tidings that " the schoolmaster wrote verses for the 
papers " were soon spread through the neighborhood. I 
cannot, to this day, decide whether it was an advantage to 
my reputation among the people, or the reverse. On the 
one hand, they had little respect for any talent which did 
not take a practical direction ; on the other, they vaguely 
felt that it was a certain sort of distinction. The Yules, 
and others, borrowed my copy of the paper, and, I am 
bound to believe, dutifully read the poem. Dan was honest 
enough to confess to me : " It 's a pretty jingle, but I can't 
say as I know what it all means." The girls, I did not fail 
to observe, were much more impressed by the discovery 
than the young men. 

By degrees, however, I received encouraging notices of 
one kind or another. The shoemaker at the Buck, an old 
Scotchman, who knew Burns by heart and sneered at Ho- 
mer and Shakspeare, was one of my very first admirers ; 
but he used to say, " Ye ha'n't got the lilt, lad," — which 
was very true, only I did n't believe him at the time. 
Squire Bratton, being one day at Carterstown, brought me 
a message from the Rev. Mr. Perego, to the effect that I 
would find sublime subjects for my muse in the Scriptures : 
he suggested Moses on Pisgah, and the visit of Naaman to 
Elisha. I did, indeed, commence a poem on the former 



164 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

subject, out of pure gratitude for the clergyman's interest, 
— but this was an insufficient inspiration, and tlie work 
was never finished. Then I received many applications to 
write obituary verses, made from so evident a piety to- 
wards the dead, and with such sincere good faith in my 
powers, that I had not the heart to refuse. I have no 
doubt that some of my manuscripts are still preserved be- 
tween the leaves of old Family Bibles, in Upper Samaria. 
The applications for album poetry, at first so agreeable, 
became at last a positive annoyance, because my poetic 
apostrophes to Youth and Beauty were always taken in a 
literal and personal sense. One day, in sheer desperation, 
I wrote in a volume sent to me, through Susan Yule, by a 
young lady of Cardiff, — 

( " Oh, fair Unknown ! believe my simple rhyme ! 
Procrastination is the thief of time." 

The lady, of whose age and circumstances I was utterly 
ignorant, happened to be verging on ancient maidenhood, 
much to her own disgust, and immediately suspected me 
of a malicious insinuation. She tore out and burned the 
leaf, and within three days Mrs. Yule picked up a report 
that I had written something unmentionably coarse and 
profane. It must have been generally believed, for I re- 
ceived very few albums afterwards. 

During this time the number of my pupils had been 
gradually increasing, until there were frequently between 
forty and fifty present at once, and all my youthful author- 
ity was required to preserve even tolerable order. I had 
little trouble with the oldest and the youngest, but the cubs 
between twelve and sixteen sometimes drove me nearly to 
distraction. Keeping them in after school-hours, was more 
of an annoyance to myself than to them ; I had a dislike 
to bodily punishment, although it was well merited, and 
allowed by the custom of the country ; and, moreover, to 
confess the truth, I did not feel sure of my ability to sup- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 165 

press a well-organized plan of rebellion. Towards the end 
of the winter, I had reason to believe that a " barring out " 
was really contemplated, and communicated my suspicions 
to Dan Yule, who was my confidant in all external matters. 

Dan took the matter much more coolly than I did. 
" Boys will be boys," said he ; " they do it every winter ; — 
fact is, I 've had a hand in it myself But if you want to 
j5x 'em, I '11 put you up to a trick worth two o' their'n." 

This struck me as better than resistance ; so, prompted 
by Dan, I procured some large iron spikes, and prepared 
oblique holes in the window-frames to receive them. The 
window-shutters consisted of a single piece, bolted on the 
inside. I also went into the loft and bored a small hole 
through the plaster of the ceiling, just over the stove. 
Then, with tranquillity of soul, I waited for the event. 

On Saturday morning, the closed shutters of the school- 
house announced to me that the barring-out had commenced. 
I tried to open the door, but found it firmly fastened on the 
inner side. Then I went to each of the four windows, pre- 
tending to examine them, but really inserting my sjDikes. 
When this was done, I locked the door from without, and, 
with a stone, drove the spikes home. The boys thought I 
was attempting to force an entrance : I could hear their 
malicious laughter. When all was secure, I took a rail 
from the fence and jDlaced it against the gable. It reached 
so near the little garret-window that I easily effected an 
entrance, and stole quietly along the middle joist to the 
hole in the ceiling. The boys were at the windows, trying 
to catch a glimpse of me through the cracks under the 
shutters. It was a favorable moment. I hastily poured the 
contents of a small paper of ground cayenne pepper down 
through the hole upon the stove, slipped back again, re- 
placed the rail, and gave a few more thumps on the window- 
shutters by way of farewell. 

Dan could not resist the temptation to lurk and listen 
after I reported that the work was done, and his descrip- 



166 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

tion, that evening, of the sneezes and cries of distress ; the 
swagger of some boys and the penitence of others ; the 
consultations and the final determination to surrender ; the 
bewilderment and dumb dismay at finding that they had 
not only barred the master out, but the master had barred 
them in, — occasioned more laughter in the family than I 
had heard since I came to live with them. The efforts of 
the boys to get out lasted for some time, and was only ac- 
complished at last by wrenching one of the shutters off its 
hinges. Then they scattered to their several homes, very 
sheepish and crestfallen. 

On the following Monday I opened school as usual. 
There was a curious expectancy among the pupils, but I 
made not the slightest allusion, then or afterwards, to the 
Saturday's performance. Dan told the whole story at the 
Buck, and it was some time before the boys heard the last 
of it. I had much less difficulty, thenceforth, in preserving 
order. 

As week after week of the winter passed away, and my 
thoughts turned from the memory of autumn to the hope 
of spring, the temporary character of my occupation forced 
itself more and more upon my attention. In a short time 
my engagement would be at an end, and I was less than 
ever in the humor to renew it. What the next step should 
be, was yet undecided, except that it must be forward and 
upward into a wider sphere of action. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 167 



CHAPTER Xm. 

IN WHICH I DECLARE, DECIDE, AND VENTURE. 

I HAVE already spoken of the exceptional way in which 
my nature developed itself — by sudden bounds, which, in 
a very short time, carried me quite out of my former self. 
The two, or three, or possibly twenty inherited elements were 
not smoothly blended in my composition ; the blood of my 
father's and mother's lines seemed only to run side by side, 
not mingle in a new result, in my veins. It was a long time 
— very long after the period of which I am now writing — 
before I could comprehend my own laws of growth and be- 
ing, and reconcile their apparent inconsistencies. As yet, 
my power of introversion was of the shallowest kind. I 
floated along, with closed eyes, on the current of my sensa- 
tions and my fancies. 

My grooving attachment to Miss Amanda Bratton, how- 
ever, was the means of pushing me a long stride forwards. 
It thoroughly penetrated me with a soft, ideal warmth, far 
enough removed from the strong flame of ripe masculine 
passion, and gently stimulated all my mental and moral en- 
ergies. My ambition began to find its proper soil of self- 
reliance, and to put forth its roots. A new force was at 
work in my frame, giving strength and elasticity to the mus- 
cles, " keying up " many a slack fibre, lifting the drooping 
lid of the eye and steadying its gaze, and correcting, with 
a clearer outline, the boyish softness of the face. I no 
longer shrank from the coming encounter with 'the world, 
but longed for the test of courage and the measure of 
strensi^h. 



168 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Yet, in one respect, I felt myself still a coward. Al- 
though convinced of the eternal devotion of my heart to 
the beloved object, I had not dared to declare it. I saw 
her frequently, and our relation became more and more 
sweetly intimate and confidential ; but I never surprised a 
blush when I came, nor detected a tender tremor of voice 
when I left. Her nature was as calm, and apparently as 
limpid, as a shaded pool in the heart of a forest. When 
I looked in her clear, unchanging eyes, as they steadily 
rested on mine, I felt the presence of a pure, unsuspecting, 
virgin soul. It seemed to me that my ever-present con- 
sciousness of love was met by as profound an unconscious- 
ness. I longed, yet dreaded to arouse her from her peace- 
ful and innocent dream. 

The solution of my two uncertainties was hastened by an 
unexpected occurrence. Early in March I was surprised 
by a visit from Rand, who came, as he said, on some busi- 
ness in which D. J. Mulford and Squire Bratton were both 
concerned. Of course he was the guest of the latter dur- 
ing the two or three days of his stay. He came over to the 
mill on the evening of his arrival, and almost embraced me 
in a gush of aifectionate ardor when we met. I was equally 
delighted, and took him at once up to my room for a chat, 
as on our Sunday afternoons in Reading. 

" Why, Godfrey, old boy," said he, lighting a cigar with- 
out ceremony, " what a snug little den you have ! And 
Bratton tells me you 're a good hand at the school, and do 
credit to his choice. I must say I 'm glad it has turned out 
so, for I took a little of the responsibility upon myself in 
the beginning, you remember. Bratton 's a keen, long- 
headed man — something of a swell, between ourselves ; 
but so is your affectionate old uncle, for that matter. By 
the way, I 've made Woolley's acquaintance, in the way of 
professional business ; — oh, you need n't be alarmed ; your 
little legacy had nothing to do with it. I 'm sorry I can't 
explain myself more particularly, but these matters are con- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 169 

fidential, you know. I 'm posted up about all the business 
in Mulford's hands, and he finds it convenient to let me 
help him now and then. I say, though, Godfrey, — no, 
' Selim,' I mean, — you are getting famous. That Hero 
and Leander article was copied into the Gazette^ the other 
day. Of course, when I saw " Yule's Mill " at the bottom, 
I knew what bird had whistled. I congratulate you, — 
upon my soul I do.! " 

I was not proof against such hearty, outspoken sympathy. 
Before Eand left T had confided to him my most cherished 
literary hopes and desires, had read to him the best of my 
treasures in manuscript, and asked his advice as to the next 
step I ought to take. 

" Leave here, by all means," he said. " Go to Philadel- 
phia, or, still better, to New York, where you '11 find the 
right sort of work. You may come to write novels or trag- 
edies, in the course of time, and make as much in a month 
as you would in a year with such a school as this. I should 
advise you, though, Selim," (he persisted in addressing me 
so,) " to get into some newspaper or book business ; it 's 
more sohd and respectable. Poets, you know, are always 
dissipated, and finish with the poor-house." 

I resented this statement with great warmth. 

" Oh, well," he continued, " I did n't mean that that 
would be your fate, Selim. Besides, it may work off after 
a while. Lots of fellows catch poetry, and have it a year 
or two, and it don't seem to do them any harm. Mulford 
wrote a song for the last Presidential campaign, to the tune 
of ' TuUaligorum^ and it does n't sound so bad, when he 
sings it. But, to come to the point, the city 's the place for 
you, or any man that wants to live by his wits. Only keep 
your eyes skinned, and don't let the hair grow on your 
tongue, ^^ou must either have gold in your pocket, or brass 
in your face. Most people can't tell one from t' other.") 

Rand's expressions jarred harshly on my more delTcate 
nature ; but then, I knew precisely what he was, — good- 



170 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

hearted, I believed, but thoroughly unideal. The main 
thing was, his judgment coincided with my own ; he, too, 
recognized that I was fitted for a more important field of ac- 
tion. The very materialism of his views gave them greater 
practical value in my eyes. Not that I paid much regard 
to this side of the question ; but it is always more comfort- 
able to have the conclusions of Selfishness with you than 
against you. 

My first plan had been to select Philadelphia as my fu- 
ture residence. My poetical pseudonym was known to at 
least one literary paper there, and I might make the ac- 
quaintance of Saxon, author of the series of " Moral Nov- 
els," and Brightaxe, who wrote the dramatic poem of the 
" Traitor of Talladega." On the other hand, the dii majo- 
res had their seats in New York; and I fancied Irving, 
Cooper, Percival, and poets whose names I will not men- 
tion because they are still living, seated day by day 
around the same Olympian board, and talking in splendid 
tropes and cadences. Even if they only asked for pota- 
toes, there must be a certain rhythmic grace in the words, 
with caesural pauses falling at classic intervals. Ye gods ! 
what a fool I still was ! 

There was at that tune a monthly magazine, called " The 
Hesperian," published in New York. It was devoted to 
Literature and Fashion, and was illustrated both with col- 
ored figures copied from Le Follet, and mezzotints of mushy 
texture, representing such subjects as " The Mother's Bless- 
ing," or " He Comes Too Late." I looked upon the latter 
as miracles of art, and imbibed the contributions as the 
very cream of literature. The names of the writers were 
printed in capitals on the last page of the cover, and my 
heart throbbed when I saw Adeliza Choate among them. 
I wondered whether I could not keep step with her on the 
Parnassian steep ; to have my name so printed was a down- 
right assurance of immortality. Accordingly, I picked out 
my choicest manuscript and forwarded it with a note, signed 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 171 

with my proper name. By a happy coincidence^ the very 
day after Rand's arrival I received a note from " G. Jenks, 
Publisher, per W. Timms," stating that my poem would 
appear in the May number, — further, that it was not G. 
Jenks's habit to pay a nom de plume, but that he would 
send me the Magazine gratuitously for six months. 

This piece of good fortune decided me. True, it opened 
no prospect of remunerative employment, but then I should 
not be obliged to pay for " The Hesperian." 

As I was walking home from school, reading the letter 
over again. Rand and Squire Bratton, coming up from the 
direction of the Buck, overtook me. The latter was un- 
usually cordial and condescending, insisting that I should 
take tea at his house that evening, as my friend Rand was 
to return to Reading the next morning. Of course, I was 
only too willing to comply. 

After tea. Miss Amanda opened her piano and sang for 
us. My enjoyment of her talent, however, was a little dis- 
turbed by Rand's prosaic whispers of, " She 's been put 
through the regular paces at school, and no mistake. That 
style of thing was n't meant for Upper Samaria." 

At the close of the song, tears of feeling swam in my 
eyes, but Rand loudly clapped his hands. " You have an 
exquisite touch, Miss Bratton," he called across the room ; 
" it 's rare to find so much musical talent." 

" I have no doubt you hear much better music in Read- 
ing, Mr. Rand," she modestly replied. 

" No, I assure you ! " he exclaimed, in his most earnest 
voice, starting from his seat and approaching her. " The 
Miss Clevengers are called fine performers, but I prefer 
your style. They bang and hammer so, you can hardly 
make out what it is they 're playing. It does n't touch yoiu* 
feelings." 

Hang the fellow ! I thought. If I had but half his assur- 
ance, I should know my fate before twenty-four hours are 
over. I did not hear the conversation which ensued, for 



172 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Squire Bratton turned towards me with some question 
about the school ; but I could mark the honeyed softness 
of his voice, as he hung over her music-stool. I did not 
know why I should feel disturbed. He was a chance vis- 
itor — had never seen her before, and might never come 
again. She was bound to treat him with proper courtesy, 
and her manner was not such as to invite an immediate fa- 
miliarity. There was nothing wrong anywhere, yet a fool- 
ish, feverish unrest took possession of me. 

Later in the evening, the album was produced. Miss 
Amanda immediately turned to my page, and said, "Oh, 
Mr. Rand, you nuist read what Mr. Godfrey has written." 

" Capital ! " he exclaimed, after he had perused the lines. 
" What a nice touch of fancy ! Godfrey, you must really 
have been inspired. But such a flower would make almost 
any bird sing — even a kill-deer like myself." 

He looked full in her face as he uttered the words. In- 
voluntarily, I did the same thing, to note how she would 
receive the brazen compliment. 

" You shall have a chance, then," she quietly said ; " I 
will bring you pen and ink directly." 

" Oh, by Jove, that 's taking me up with a vengeance ! " 
Rand exclaimed. '' I could n't do such a thing to save my 
life. Godfrey, you must help me." 

" I 'm not a mocking-bird. I can only sing my own song." 

She smiled, but without looking at me. 

" Well, then," said Rand, " I must get something out of 
my memory. How will this do ? 



' My pen is bad, my ink is pale, 
My love to you shall never fall.' 



" No," said she, taking the book from his hand, " I will 
not have anything of the kind. You are making fun of 
my album, and I '11 put it away." 

" Aw, now," groaned Rand, assuming an expression of 
penitence. But it was too late. The book was already re- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 173 

moved, and Miss Bratton came back with an arch air of 
reproof, saying to him, " You must behave better another 
time." 

" Oh, I shall always be afraid of you." 

I went home that night with an increase of hope, and a 
growing determination to declare my sentiments. I scarce- 
ly slept, so busily was my mind occupied in creating possi- 
ble situations, and enacting the tender drama in advance. 
I succeeded in everything but her answers, which I could 
not — through sympathy with myself — make rejective, yet 
did not dare to make consentive. 

I had hoped, all along, that some happy accident might 
disclose the truth, — that some mutually felt warmth of long- 
ing might bring us naturally to the brink where my confes- 
sion would be the first step beyond ; but no such came. I 
must either seek or make the opportunity. After much 
painful uncertainty of mind, I hit upon what I suppose 
must be a very general device of young lovers, — to an- 
nounce my approaching departure, and be guided by the 
manner in which she should receive it. 

The month of March drew to a close, and I had but one 
week more of the school before the coveted chance ar- 
rived. It was Saturday afternoon, and one of those deli- 
cious days of windless and cloudless sunshine when the 
sad-hued earth sleeps, and sleej^ing, dreams of summer. I 
walked up the creek, in order to look for arbutus-blossoms 
on a wooded knoll above the mill-dam. We had been talk- 
ing of them a few days before, and she had told me where 
they grew. I found the plants, indeed, jDushing forth from 
under the fallen leaves, but the flowers were not yet devel- 
oped. I gathered, instead, a bunch of club-moss, and took 
my seat upon an old stump, to listen to a bluebird that 
sang from the willow-thicket below. Something in the in- 
dolept quiet of the air reminded me of the shady glen at 
Honeybrook, and I thought of my cousin Penrose. How 
far away it seemed ! 



174 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

After a while I heard the sound of wheels approaching 
on the road from Cardiff, and a light open wagon came into 
sight around the head of the knoll. I recognized Sep 
Bratton by his voice before I could distinguish his figure 
through the trees ; and the dark-blue drapery beside him 
— could it be ? — yes, it really was — Amanda ! The road 
passed some thirty or forty feet below me, but neither of 
them looked up in my direction. 

" I 'm going down to the Buck," I heard Sep say, " but 
I '11 let you off at the turning. Or, do you want to stop 
and see Sue Yule ? " 

" Not to-day," she answered. " But don't stay long, Sep. 
You know. Pa don't like it." 

T listened no more, for a wild idea shot through my brain : 
I would cross the stream above the dam, hurry down on 
the opposite side, and intercept her ! As soon as the vehi- 
cle disappeared, I bounded down the knoll, leaped the nar- 
row channel, and stole as rapidly as possible, under cover 
of the thickets, towards the path she must take. I had 
plenty of time to recover my breath, for she was still stand- 
ing beside the wagon, talking to Sep, who seemed excited. 
I could hear the sound of his voice, but not the words. 

At last, the sweet suspense terminated. Sep drove off, 
and I saw her gradually approach. Assuming a careless, 
sauntering air, which belied my inward perturbation, I 
emerged into view, walked a few steps, paused and looked 
around, seemed suddenly to perceive her, and then went 
forward to meet her. 

Never had she looked so lovely. Her eyes expressed 
the same unchanging calm, harmonizing, as I thought, with 
the peaceful sky over us, but the air had brought a faint 
tinge to her cheek and ruffled a little the smoothness of her 
light -brown hair. I noticed, also, the steady even measure 
of her step : if there had been harebells in her path, they 
would have risen up from it, elastic, as from the foot of the 
Lady of the Lake. She carried a dainty parasol, closed, 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 175 

and occasionally twirled it on her forefinger by an ivory 
ring at the end of the handle. 

By the time we had exchanged greetings, and I had spo- 
ken of the arbutus and given her the club-moss, we passed 
the dam, and the road would soon bring us to Bratton's 
gate. What I had to say must be said speedily. 

" I am going to leave here, Miss Bratton." 

" Inde-e-d ! So soon ? " she exclaimed, pausing in her 
walk, as I had done. 

" Yes, I am going to New York. This may be my last 
walk with you. Let us go down the bank, as far as the old 
hemlock." 

She seemed to hesitate. "I don't know," she said, at 
last. " Ma expects me." But while she spoke her steps 
had turned unconsciously, with mine, into the footpath. 

"I want to tell you why I go," I continued. "Not be- 
cause I have not been very happy here, but this is not the 
life fbr me. I must be an author, if I can, — something, at 
any rate, to make my name honorable. I feel that I have 
some little talent, and if I am ambitious it is not for myself 
alone. I want to be worthy of my — friends." 

" Oh, you are that already, Mr. Godfrey," said she. 

" Do you think so, Miss Amanda ? " 

" Certainly." 

Her voice expressed a positiveness of belief which was 
grateful, but, somehow, it did not encourage me to the final 
avowal. I had reached the brink, however, and must 
plunge now or never. 

" If I should make myself a name. Miss Amanda," I 
went on, with broken, trembling voice, " it will be for your 
sake. Do you hope, now, that I shall succeed ? " 

She did not answer. 

"I must tell you, before I go, that I love you — have 
loved you since we first met. I am presumptuous, I know, 
to ask for a return, but my heart craves it." 

I paused. She had partly turned away her head, and 
seemed to be weeping. 



176 JOHN GODFEET'S FORTUNES. 

" Tell me, you are not offended by what I have said," 1 
entreated. 

" No," she murmured, in a scarcely audible voice. 

A wild hope sprang up in my heart. " You do not com- 
mand me to forget you ? " 

" No," said she, as faintly as before. 

" Then may I go and labor in the blessed knowledge that 
you think of me, — that you will be faithful as I am faith- 
ful, — that, — Amanda ! is it really true ? Do you re- 
turn my love ? " 

She had buried her face in her handkerchief. I gently 
put one arm around her waist and drew^ her towards me. 
Her head sank on my shoulder. " Speak, darling ! " I en- 
treated. 

" I cannot," she whispered, hiding her face on my breast. 

It was enough. A pulse of immeasurable joy throbbed 
in my heart, chimed wonderful music in my ears, and over- 
flowed in waves of light upon the barren earth. The hill- 
tops were touched with a nimbus of glory, and far beyond 
them stretched a shining world, wherein the thorns burst 
into muffling roses, and the sharp flints of the highway be- 
came as softest moss. { I loved, and I was beloved ! / 

My arms closed around her. My face bent over her, 
and my lips sealed on hers the silent compact. I would 
not torture her pure, virginal timidity of heart. Her sweet 
and natural surrender spoke the words which her voice 
could not yet utter. I repeated my own declaration, with 
broken expressions of rapture, now that my tongue was 
loosed and the courage of love had replaced its cowardice. 

We reached the old hemlock, I knew not how, and sat 
down on the bank, side by side. I took and tenderly held 
her hand, which trembled a little as it lay in mine. Meas- 
uring her agitation, as woman, by mine, as man, I could 
readily make allowance for all that was passive in her atti- 
tude and words. I had burst upon her suddenly with my 
declaration, startling the innocent repose of her heart with 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 177 

the consciousness of love, and she must have time to be- 
come familiar with the immortal guest. 

I explained to her my plans, so far as they possessed a 
definite shape. My success in literature I spoke of as a 
thing assured ; one year, or, at most, two, w^ould be suffi- 
cient to give me a sure position. Then I could boldly re- 
turn and claim her as my precious reward, — now, I must 
be satisfied with my blissful knowledge of her love, upon 
which I should rely as upon my own. My trust in her was 
boundless, — if it were not so, I could not possibly bear the 
pangs of absence. 

" We shall write to each other, shall we not, Amanda ? " 
I asked. " Our hearts can still hold communion, and im- 
part reciprocal courage and consolation. Promise me this, 
and I have nothing more to ask." 

" If we can arrange it so that no one shall know," she 
answered. " I would n't have Pa or Ma find it out for any- 
thing. I 'm sure they would n't hear of such a thing yet 
awhile. But w^e are both young, Mr. Godfrey " — 

" Call me ' John,' " I murmured, in tender reproach. 

She beamed upon me a sweet, frank smile, and contin- 
ued : " We are so young, John, and we can wait and hope. 
I am sure if ever anybody w^as constant, you are. You 
must write, but not very often. If you could only send 
your letters so that Pa or Sep should not see them ! Sep 
would soon notice them, and you know how he talks ! " 

I was equally convinced of the propriety of keeping our 
attachment secret for the present. The difficulty in rela- 
tion to correspondence had not occurred to me before. It 
was a new proof of the interest she felt in the successful 
issue of our love. 

" How can it be done ? " said I. " We might send our 
letters through somebody else. There 's Dan Yule, as hon- 
est a fellow as ever lived ! " 

" Oh ! " she exclaimed, " nobody must know what — what 
you have said to me ! " 
12 



178 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" He shall not know ! " I protested. " I '11 make up some 
story to explain the letters to Dan, and he 's so simple- 
minded, he never suspects anything. Or, is there anybody 
else?" 

No, she could think of no one, and she finally consented, 
though with reluctance, to the proposal. She now insisted 
on returning home, and I must, perforce, be satisfied with 
one more kiss before we emerged from the screen of the 
brook-trees. On reaching the road, we parted with a long 
clasp of hands, which said to me that her heart now recog- , 
nized the presence of love, and would be faithful forever. / 

I saw her twice again before my departure, but could, 
only exchange a few stolen words, hot with compressed 
emotion. Sorrow for the parting, and a joyous impatience 
to be away and at work for her sake, were strangely min- 
gled in my heart ; yet joy was most natural to my temper- 
ament, and it now poured through my days like a freshet, 
flooding over and drowning every lingering barrier of doubt 
or self-distrust. 

Wlien my school closed and my account with the direc- 
tors was settled, I found myself in possession of nearly 
seventy dollars, as the net result of my winter's labors. I 
was also, had I known it, entitled to receive the annual in- 
terest on the sum in my uncle's hands ; but I was too little 
alive to mere material matters to make any inquiry about 
it, and supposed that, in breaking away from his guardian- 
ship, I had debarred myself from all claims of the kind, 
until I should be my own master. 

The arrangement with Dan Yule, with regard to my cor- 
respondence with Amanda, was easily made. My repeated 
declaration that it was mere friendly interchange of letters 
would have made any one else suspicious, but Dan merely 
nodded his head, and said, " All right, — I '11 'tend to it." 

The day of departure came, and, with many a hearty 
farewell and promise to revisit them, I took leave of the 
kind Yules, and commenced my journey into the world. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 179 



CHAPTER XIV. 

IN WHICH I GO TO MARKET, BUT CANNOT SELL MT 
WARES. 

On a cloudy afternoon, in the early part of April, behold 
me stepping ashore on the Courtlandt Street pier, from the 
Jersey City ferry-boat. Everything was new and bewilder- 
ing. The rush of my fellow-passengers ; the cries of the 
hackmen, brandishing their long whips ; the crowd of carts, 
drays, and carriages, and the surge and swirl of one chaotic 
whirlpool of Noise, in the vortex of which I seemed to 
stand, stunned and confused my perceptions. After nearly 
losing the trunk in which my inestimable manuscripts were 
stowed, and paying an enormous price for its transfer to a 
thick-necked porter, who, I feared, would knock me down 
before I could hand him the money, I succeeded in finding 
quarters at Lovejoy's Hotel, an establishment which Sep 
Bratton had recommended to me. The officiating clerk, 
who struck me as a fellow of very obliging manners, gave 
me a front room on the fourth story, on learning that I 
should probably remain a week or two. I had neither an 
acquaintance nor a recommendatory letter to any person in 
the great city ; but my funds, I supposed, were sufficient to 
support me for two or three months, and it was quite im- 
possible that I should not find employment by that time. 

I spent the remainder of my first day in wandering 
around the Park and up and down Broadway, feasting my 
eyes on the grandeur and novelty of everything I saw. I 
knew not which was most remarkable — the never-ending 
crowd that filled the chief thoroughfare, the irregular splen- 



180 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

dor of the shops, or the filthiness of the pavement. With 
the recollection of the undeviating Philadelphian squares 
of brick bound in white marble in my mind, I could with 
difficulty comprehend that I had not passed into some for- 
eign country. I was also favorably impressed with the 
apparent friendliness of the inhabitants. Although the 
most of them passed me without even a glance, I was ac- 
costed in the Park by several gentlemen, who, probably 
recognizing the stranger in my air, asked me if I did not 
wish to see the city. Indeed, they were so importunate 
that I had some difficulty in declining their proffered ser- 
vices. Then, as evening came down on Broadway, I was 
quite surprised at receiving now and then a greeting from 
a superbly dressed lady, who certainly could never have 
seen me before.-' - Some of them, in fact, seemed to be on 
the point of speaking to me ; but as I feared they had mis- 
taken me for some one else, I hurried away, slightly embar- 
rassed. 

I was so impatient to explore the field which I intended 
thenceforth to cultivate, that, as soon as I had taken break- 
fast next morning in the subterranean restaurant of the 
hotel, I set out for the office of " The Hesperian," which 
was near at hand, in Beekman Street. A small boy was 
just taking down the shutters. On my inquiring for Mr. 
Jenks, he informed me that that individual would be in at 
eleven o'clock, when I might call again, if I wanted to see 
him. During; the interveninor three or four hours I wan- 
dered about, from the Battery to Canal Street, purchased 
and read two or three literary papers I had never heard of 
before, and supplied myself with several manuscripts, for 
Mr. Jenks's inspection. 

On returning to " The Hesperian " office, I found a tall, 
thin-faced young man, with a black moustache, behind the 
counter. He was making up bundles of the magazine, and 
the number of copies on the shelves behind him excited 
my amazement. If this was Jenks, I thought, no doubt he 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 181 

was a young author like myself, and would receive me with 
the open arms of fraternal sympathy. 

" Are you Mr. Jenks ? " I asked. 

" No : wish to see him particular ? " 

It was, therefore, only W. Timms, the " per." 

" Anything / can do for you .'' " he repeated. 

" Thank you," said I, " I should like to see Mr. Jenks 
himself, a moment, if he 's in." 

By way of answer, he twirled his left thumb towards the 
back of the office, giving a jerk of his head in the same 
direction, as he tied another bundle. 

Looking that way, I saw that one corner of the office 
was partitioned off from the rest, monopolizing more than 
half the light of the back-window. The door to this en- 
closure was open, and I could distinguish a large head, 
mounted on a square body, within. 

Mr. Jenks was absorbed in the perusal of a newspaper, 
which he held before him, firmly grasped in both hands, as 
if about to tear it in twain. Before he looked up, I had 
time to take a rapid survey of his appearance. He was a 
man of forty-five, short, stout, gray, and partly bald ; feat- 
ures keen, rigidly marked, and with a hard, material stamp 
— no gleam of taste or imagination anywhere. He evi- 
dently noticed my entrance, but finished his sentence or 
paragraph before consenting to be interrupted. 

" Well ? " said he, suddenly, tossing the paper to one 
side : " what is it ? " 

" Perhaps you remember," I mildly suggested, " writing 
to me about my poem of ' Leonora's Dream,' which will be 
in * The Hesperian ' for May." 

" What 's your name ? " he asked. 

"Godfrey." 

" What 's the handle to your ' Godfrey ' ? " 

This question was not only rude but incomprehensible. 
I supposed, after a moment's reflection, that he must mean 
my business or vocation, and was about to explain, when he 
repeated, — 



182 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" Your given name ? " 

I gave it. 

He stretched forth his arm, took a folio volume from its 
upright niche over his desk, looked at its index, turned 
over the pages until he found what was probably a copy of 
the letter, and read, jerking out these words as he did so : 

« Yes — Godfrey — May number — magazine for six 
months gratuitously." Here he slapped the volmne shut, 
replaced it, and reiterated, " Well ? " 

" I have brought some other poems," I said. " Perhaps 
you might like some of them. I have come to New York 
to make literature my profession, and should therefore ex- 
pect to be paid for my articles. Here is a long narrative 
poem, which I think my best; it is a romantic subject — 
' Ossian on the Hill of Morven.' Would you like to look 
at it?" 

He took the proffered manuscript, tossed over leaf after 
leaf to see its length, and then addressed me with unneces- 
sary energy : " Young man, this may be apples of gold in 
pictures of silver, for anything I know, — but it won't do 
for me. It would make ten pages of the magazine, and 
four a month is as much as I can allow for poetry. I have 
a bushel-basket full of contributions which I can't use. 
The public want variety. It 's a good thing to encourage 
young writers, and we reckon to do our share, — but busi- 
ness is business." 

Very much discouraged, yet unwilling to give up all hope 
of literary occupation, I asked whether it would not be pos- 
sible for me to furnish articles of another character. 

"You're hardly up to what I want," said Mr. Jenks. 
" I 'd like to have a few short, sentimental stories, to piece 
out with now and then, — something light and airy," (here 
he made a spiral upward movement with his forefinger,) 
" such as women like to read, — with a good deal of Milli- 
nery in them. It takes practice just to hit the mark in 
these things." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 183 

" I might try, Mr. Jenks," I suggested. 

" As you please. But I make no engagements before- 
hand, except with standard authors. Wliat have you 
there?" 

I handed him the remaining sheets, which contained 
various brief lyrics, mostly of an amatory character. He 
whirled them over in the same rapid way, reading a line 
here and there, and then returned them, together with my 
"Ossian." 

" One or two things there might do, if I was n't over- 
stocked," he said. " Besides, you 're not known, and your 
name would be no advantao-e to the Maorazine. Get a lit- 
tie reputation, young man, before you try to make your liv- 
ing by literature. Write a sonnet on a railroad accident, 
or something else that everybody will read, or have one of 
your singable poems set to music and made fashionable, 
and then I '11 talk to you. You can't expect me to pay, 
while there 's a young and rising genius on every bush, and 
to be had for the picking." 

As he said this, he turned short around to his desk, and 
began opening a pile of letters. Nothing was left to me 
but to retreat, in rather a disordered manner. W. Timms 
gave a significant glance at the manuscripts in my hand as 
I passed out through the store, and I hastened to hide them 
in the breast-pocket of my coat. I will not conceal the fact 
that I was deeply humiliated, not so much because my 
poems were refused, as because I had voluntarily come 
down to the j^lane where I must submit to be tested by 
coarse, material standards. I felt now for the first time 
that there is an Anteros, as well as an Eros, in literature, 
and the transition from one to the other. was too sudden to 
be made without a shock. I began to fear that what I be- 
lieved to be Inspiration would accomplish little towards the 
furtherance of my plans, unless it were allied to what I 
knew to be Policy ; — in other words, that my only chance 
of success with " The Hesperian " lay in writing one of the 



184 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

short, airy, millinery tales, which Mr. Jenks could use " to 
piece out with." 

The idea grew less repulsive, as I brooded over it. I 
found my mind spontaneously at work, contriving charac- 
ters and situations, almost before I knew it. By night, I 
had wellnigh decided to make the attempt. Meanwhile, I 
recognized that there was a grain of truth amid the harsh- 
ness of Mr. Jenks's concluding words. I should certainly 
have but little chance of obtaining employment unless my 
name were known to some extent. " Selim," of course, 
must be dropi3ed, and " John Godfrey " stand forth boldly 
as the father of his own angelic progeny ; but even then, 
I was not sure that the reputation would immediately fol- 
low. I might plunge into the golden flood as soon as I was 
able to swim, but how could I learn the art on the dry land 
of poverty and obscurity ? One of the suggestions struck 
me as being plausible. I knew how eagerly songs are 
passed from voice to voice through the country, and music 
seemed a fitting adjunct to some of my shorter lyrics. If, 
for instance, that commencing " I pine for thee at night 
and morn " were wedded to some fair and tender melody, 
it alone might raise me in a short time from the darkness 
of my estate. 

In the afternoon, therefore, I made another venture. 
Not deterred by the crossed banjos in the window of a 
music-store, and the lithograph of Christy's Minstrels, in 
costume, on the title-page of a publication, I entered and 
offered my finer wares. I was received with more courtesy 
than at " The Hesperian " office, but the result was the same. 
The publisher dealt rather in quadrilles, polkas, and Ethio- 
pian melodies, than songs of a sentimental character. He 
read my poems, which he pronounced very sweet and ten- 
der, and thought they might be popular, — but more de- 
pended on the air than on the words, and it was rather out 
of his line. His politeness encouraged me to use a little 
persuasion, yet without effect. He was sorry, etc., — under 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 185 

other circumstances, etc., — and I felt, finally, that his 
smooth manner covered a fixed decision. I went home 
towards evening, with the manuscripts still in my pocket. 

It is useless to deny that my hopes were somewhat dashed 
by the day's experience. Already the fragrance of life 
began to drift away, and the purple bloom to fade. Even 
a poet, I saw, (and whether I were one or not, this was the 
only character in which I had presented myself,) met with 
a cold and questioning reception from the world. What- 
ever I might achieve must be the spoil, not the gift, of 
Fate : I must clench for a blow the hand which I had 
stretched out with an open palm. All my petty local 
triumiDhs, my narrow distinctions, my honest friendships, 
were become absolutely nothing. I wore no badge that 
could be recognized, but stood naked before a world that 
would test every thew of my frame before it clothed me 
with its mantle of honor. 

Physical fatigue and the reaction from my first causeless 
yet inevitable excitement added to the gloom of the mood 
that fell upon me. Let no one tell me that there are na- 
tures so steeled and strung to their purpose that they never 
know discouragement. Some, indeed, may always turn a 
brave face to their fellow-beings ; a few, perhaps, might 
sooner die than betray a flagging courage ; but no high 
prize was ever reached by a brain unacquainted with doubt. 

I read something — I forget what — to escape from my- 
self, and went early to bed. There, I knew, I should find 
a certain balm for all moral abrasions. With each article 
of clothing I laid aside a heavy thought, and when my body 
dipped into the air as into some delicate, ethereal fluid, 
every material aspect of life drifted away like fragments of 
a wreck and left me the pure sensation of existence. Then 
I sank into my bed, as some wandering spirit might sink to 
rest for a while, upon a denser cloud, cool with dew, yet 
warm with rosy sunshine. Every joint and muscle fell into 
slack, exquisite repose, or, if sometimes a limb stretched 



186 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

itself forth with an exploring impulse, it was siniply to en- 
joy more fully the consciousness of its freedom. My 
breast grew light and my heart beat with an even, velvety 
throb ; the restless thoughts laid themselves, one by one, 
to sleep, and gentle, radiant fancies whispered from the pil- 
low. In that sensation lay for me almost the only pure and 
perfect blending of body and spirit ; — their natural enmity 
forgotten, their wavering bounds of rule softly obliterated, 
they clasped each other in a brief embrace of love. 

Wretched, thrice wretched is the man whose bed has 
ceased to be a blessing — whose pillow no longer seems, 
while his eyes close with a murmured word of prayer, the 
arm of God, tenderly upholding his head during the help- 
lessness of Sleep ! 

In the morning, I put on a portion of my trouble with 
my clothes. I was yet without a moral disinfectant, and the 
rustling of the manuscripts in my pocket brought back some 
of yesterday's disappointment. I had no intention, how- 
ever, of giving up the struggle ; it had become a sort of 
conscience with me to perform what I had once decided 
upon. The obligation was not measured by the importance 
of the act. I had half made up my mind to attempt a short 
" millinery " story for " The Hesperian " ; but, even if this 
should fail, there were other literary papers and periodicals 
in the city. My interview with the music-dealer had left a 
more agreeable impression than that with Mr. Jenks. Gen- 
eralizing from single experiences, as a young man is apt to 
do, I suspected that publishers of songs were a more cour- 
teous and refined class of men than publishers of maga- 
zines. I would therefore first exhaust this class of chances. 

After some search, I discovered another music-store, in 
the lower part of Broadway. There was a guitar in the 
window, instead of banjos, and the title-pages represented 
young ladies gazing on the moon, bunches of forget-me- 
nots, and affectionate pairs in crimson gondolas. This 
looked promising, and I entered with a bold step. On 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 187 

either side ran a counter, heaped with squares of music- 
sheets, but nobody was in attendance. Beyond this, an 
open space, in which pianos stood, and there I saw two gen- 
tlemen, one seated and playing a lively air, the other stand- 
ing near him. As I advanced towards them, the former 
looked up from his performance, addressed me in a sharp, 
shrill voice, with — " Wait a minute, sir ! " and went on 
playing. 

I leaned against the end of the counter, and heard what 
followed. 

" This is the way it should be played," said the performer, 
— '.' quite a different movement, you see, from yours. I '11 
sing two or three lines, to show you what I mean." 

Thereupon, clearing his throat, he sang, with a voice 
somewhat cracked and husky, — 

" When — I-ee am dying, the angels will come 
On swift wings a-flying, to carry me home." 

" There ! " he continued, " that 's about the time I want, but 
I see you have n't enough syllables for the notes. I had 
to say 'a-flying' to stretch the line out. There 's another 
wanted in the first, afler ' when.' I '11 put in another ' when/ 
and you '11 see how much better it will go, and faster. 

" ' Whenwhen I am dying, the angels will come ' " — 

"If you please," said the other gentleman, who, I now 
saw, was a young, fresh-faced, attractive person, "I will 
show how I meant the song to be sung." 

He took his seat at the piano, and, with a weak but clear 
and tuneful voice, sang the same lines, but much more 
slowly and with a different accentuation. 

"Oh, that won't do, that will 7iever do!" exclaimed the 
first, almost pushing him from the stool. «It would n't be 
popular at all ; it 's quite doleful. More spirit, Mr. Swans- 
ford! Listen again, — you must see that my idea is the 
best, only you should change the words and have just as 



188. JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

many syllables as notes." Thereupon he sang, to a gallop- 
ing accompaniment, faster than ever, — 

" Whenwhen I am dying, the angelswillcome 
On swift wingswings flying, to caiTymehome." 

The young man looked dejected, and I could see that he 
was not in the least convinced. " If you insist upon having 
it so, Mr. Kettlewell," said he, " I must rewrite the music." 

" I have nothing against the music, Mr. Swansford," said 
the publisher, as I now conjectured him to be; "it's only 
the time. You might, perhaps, put a little more brilliant 
fingering in the accompaniment, — it would be more pop- 
ular. The more showy music is, the better it sells. Think 
over the matter, while I attend to this gentleman." 

He rose from the piano and came towards me. He was 
a small man, with lively gray eyes, a hooked nose, and a 
shrivelled throat. " Business " was written upon his face 
no less distinctly than on that of Mr. Jenks, though in dif- 
ferent hieroglyphics. He was easier to encounter, but, I 
feared, more difficult to move. I told him in a few words 
what I wanted, and offered him my lyrics for inspection. 
They began already to seem a little battered in my eyes ; 
they were no longer wild-flowers, fresh with dew, but wilted 
vegetables in a market-basket. 

" Hm — hm," said he, " the words are good in their way, 
though it is n't much matter about them, if the subject is 
popular and the air is taking. I don't often do this sort of 
thing, Mr. —?" 

" Godfrey," I remarked. 

"Ah, Mr. Godfrey. The name seems familiar. What 
songs of yours are in circulation ? " 

I was obliged to confess that none of my effusions had 
yet been sung. Always detected as a beginner ! It is very 
likely that, for a single second, I may have felt a tempta- 
tion to lie. 

" That makes a difference," he said. " It 's risky. But 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 189 

if you '11 leave them, I '11 show them to my composer, and 
see what he thinks. How much a piece do you want for 
them ? I always like to know terms in advance." 

Thankful not to have received a downright rebuff, I in- 
formed him that I was ignorant of the usual remuneration, 
but would be satisfied with whatever he should think them 
worth. 

" Well," he observed, " I mostly get common, sentimental 
songs for a dollar. There 's Spenser G. Bryan, to be sure, 
he has five dollars, but then his songs are always fashion- 
able, and the sale makes up the difference to me. You 
could n't expect to compete with a Spenser G. Bryan, so I 
suppose a dollar would be about the right thing." 

As he paused, awaiting an answer, I modestly signified 
my assent, although the siun seemed to me terribly insig- 
nificant. At that rate I should have to write three hun- 
dred and sixty-five songs in a year, in order barely to live ! 
After being notified that I might call again in eight or ten 
days, to learn the composer's decision, I took leave of Mr. 
Kettlewell. 

This transaction gave me at least a momentary courage. 
It promised to be a stepping-stone, if of the smallest and 
most slippery character. There was also this pitiful conso- 
lation, — that I was not the only aspiring young author, 
struggling to rise out of obscurity. I could not doubt that 
the young man — Mr. Swansford — had come on an errand 
sunilar to mine. He was perhaps a little further advanced 
— had commenced his career, but not as yet emerged from 
its first obstructions. I longed to make his acquaintance, 
and therefore lingered near the place. In a few minutes 
he issued from the store, with a roll of paper in his hand. 
His head was bent, and his whole air expressed discourage- 
ment : one hand crushed the paper it grasped, while the 
other was clenched, as it hung by his side. 

Presently he seemed to become magnetically aware of 
my gaze, and looked up. I noticed now, that his skin was 



190 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

qiiite transparent, and there were dark shades under his 
eyes. He wore a very silky moustache, and had a soft, 
stragghng tuft on his chin ; yet, even with these mascuhne 
indications, his face was dehcate as a young girl's. I recog- 
nized a kinship of some sort between us, and, fancying that 
I read a similar recognition in his eyes, I said to him, with- 
out further prelude, — 

"You sang the song correctly." 

" Did I not ? " he exclaimed. " You heard how he butch- 
ered it ; — was ever anything so stupid and so profane ? 
But he won't hear of anything else; I must change it. 
You offered him songs, too, I noticed. Do you compose ? " 

" Only words — not music." 

" Then you can only half understand what I must put up 
with. You see I always write the melody first : it 's more 
to me than the poetry. If I knew a poet who understood 
music, and could give its sentunent truly in words, I should 
not try to write them myself" 

" I wish you had seen the songs I just left with your pub- 
lisher ! " I eagerly exclaimed. " But I have others in my 
trunk. Will you come to my room and look over them, 
Mr. Swansford ? " 

He accepted the invitation, and in the course of an hour 
or two we became very well acquainted indeed. We inter- 
changed biographies, and were delighted to find here and 
there a point of resemblance. He was a native of a small 
town in Connecticut, where his parents — persons of lim- 
ited means — still lived. He had already been a year in 
the city, studying music on a fund derived from his moder- 
ate savings as teacher of a singing-class at home. He was 
four or five years older than myself, and thus possessed a 
little more experience of the ways of the world ; but he 
never had, and never would, overcome his distaste for the 
hard, practical materialism which he encountered on every 
side. A few of his songs had been published, and had 
attained a moderate success, without bringing him much 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 191 

remuneration. He was now far enough advanced in his mu- 
sical studies, however, to give lessons, and should rely upon 
them for support while elaborating his great musical designs. 
I duiily felt, in the course of our conversation, the presence 
of a purer and loftier ideal than my own. The first half- 
unconscious contrast of our natures presented him sublimed 
and etherealized beside the sensuous love of Beauty which 
was my strongest characteristic. 

We parted on good terms with each other — almost as 
friends. That evening I returned his visit, at his boarding- 
house in the triangular region between the Bowery and East 
Broadway. He had an attic room, with a dormer-window 
looking out on a realm* of narrow back-yards, divided by 
board-walls, which had received such a nap from the weather 
that they resembled felt rather than wood. A bed, cottage- 
piano, and chest of drawers so filled up the room that there 
was barely space for a little table squeezed into the hollow 
of the window, and two chairs. He had no stove, and could 
only obtain a partial w^amith in winter by lea\dng his door 
open to catch the atmosphere from below. Above his bed 
hung lithographic heads of Mendelssohn and Beethoven. 
Poor and starved as was the aspect of the room, there was 
nevertheless something attractive in its atmosphere. It was ■ 
not beautiful by day, but was admirably adapted to the mid- 
night isolation of genius. 



192 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER XV. 

CONCERNING MY ENTRANCE INTO MRS. VERY's BOARDING- 
HOUSE, AND VARIOUS OTHER MATTERS. 

My acquaintance with Swansford, at that period of my 
fortunes, was a piece of good luck for which I have ever 
since been thankful. I derived a certain sort of consolation 
— selfish, no doubt, but very natural — from the knowledge 
that his circumstances were scarcely better than my own, 
his future equally uncertain. Without a friendly acquaint- 
ance, whose respect I desired to retain, I should probably 
have succumbed to the repeated rebuffs I experienced, and 
given up my chosen career in despair. The thought of 
Amanda was a powerful stimulant, it was true, but the 
breadth of New Jersey divided her from me. Here, how- 
ever, was an ever-present eye which must not be allowed to 
discover my flagging courage. I must make good to him 
my first boast, and counterfeit a certain amount of energy, 
until the force of habit transformed it into the genuine 
article. The efforts I made were not without their results 
in my nature, and, since I have come to understand myself 
better, I am reconciled to that mixture of pride and vanity 
to which I can now trace so many of my actions. 

During the succeeding week I made many additional 
trials, persevering after each failure, finally, from a curi- 
osity to assure myself that my original plans were indeed 
futile. One or two literary editors accepted a poem from 
me as an unpaid contribution, but no one was willing to 
purchase. My only prospect of earning a trifle dwindled 
down to the short " millinery " story, which I completed 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 193 

and carried to Mr. Jenks, who promised to read it " in the 
course of the week." Mr. Kettlewell's composer had no 
objections to make in regard to the songs submitted to his 
inspection ; they were smooth and sentimental, he said, and 
if he had time, he might marry some of them to his im- 
mortal music ; but he was now busily engaged in preparing 
two new quadrilles and a polka. 

I confided these experiences to Swansford, who did not 
seem to be in the least surprised ; so I, also, pretended to 
take them as a matter of course. Meanwhile, my little 
stock of money was beginning to go, and prudence advised 
me to enter upon a more economical mode of living. About 
this tune the front attic in Swansford's boarding-house be- 
came vacant, and I considered myself fortunate in being 
able to secure it, with board, for three dollars and a half 
per week. Swansford took me down to a dark parlor on 
the first floor, and summoned Mrs. Very, who kept the 
establishment. It was a splendid apartment ; the carpet- 
pattern was of immense size, and the furniture real ma- 
hogany and horse-hair. I was obliged to wait some time 
before the appearance of Mrs. Yery, — a tall, middle-aged 
lady with an aquiline nose. A cap with crimson ribbons 
and streamers was thrown upon her head, concealing to 
some extent the frowziness of her hair, and a heavy velvet 
cape on her shoulders was so confused in its fastenings that 
one side was an inch higher than the other. In the dim 
atmosphere, nevertheless, she was rather an imposmg 
presence and suggested to me at once the idea of an 
unfortunate duchess. 

Swansford performed the ceremony of introduction, 
stating my wish to become the occupant of the vacant 
room. The lady bent her piercing eyes upon me and took 
,a silent survey of my form. 

" I have not given out the room yet," she remarked. 
'* Miss Dunlap spoke to me of her cousin wanting it, but 
I did n't promise positive. I wish to form an agreeable 
13 



194 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

family, and would rather be vacant for a week or two than 
have them that don't seem rightly to belong to our domestic 
circle. There are now three ladies and two gentlemen, 
you know, Mr. Swansford ; so it would seem proper for me 
to take another gentleman. Mr. Godfrey, I suppose, would 
not be likely to have lots of visitors till midnight or two 
o'clock in the morning ? " 

" Oh, no ! " I exclaimed. " I scarcely know anybody in 
New York except Mr. Swansford." 

" That would be a recommendation," Mrs. Very reflect- 
ingly observed. " Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer having the room 
under you ; they 're the oldest members of my family and 
stand by me faithful. Them that know me generally do. 
Our circle is the best in Hester Street, and I often have 
competition for my vacancies. I 'm mostly full, all summer, 
when other people, who are not particular as to genteel 
boarders, are half empty." 

Mrs. Very finally informed me that she would make up 
her mind that evening, and dismissed us with a stately 
salutation. I should have gone away in great doubt, had 
not Swansford whispered to me, at the door, " That 's 
always her way of talking. She has taken you already." 

This proved to be the case. The next morning one of 
Lovejoy's porters followed me up Chatham Street with my 
trunk, and I took possession of the coveted attic. Mrs. 
Very's residence was a narrow three-story house of brick, 
with wooden steps and a small platform before the door. 
This was called " the stoop." The house was two or three 
blocks removed from the noise of the Bowery, and its neigh- 
borhood wore an aspect both of quiet and decay. The 
street was rarely cleaned, and its atmosphere was generally 
flavored with the smells arising from boxes of ashes and 
kitchen-refuse which stood on the sidewalks awaiting re-» 
moval. Most of the houses were only of two stories, some 
of them of wood, and Mrs. Very's thus received a certain 
distinction. Whether or not the hall was swept, the brass 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 195 

plate on the door, with her name, was always brightly 
scoured. Not far off, on the opposite side of the street, 
there was a blind alley, leading to some hidden cluster of 
tenements, whence issued swarms of dirty, ragged, and sav- 
age children. 

The room to which I was conducted was almost a fac- 
simile of Swanford's. It commanded a view of the oppo- 
site side of the street, and overlooked the mysteries of sev- 
eral second floors. The absence of a piano made it seem 
more spacious ; its appointments, such as they were, were 
complete ; and, indeed, I was not so accustomed to lux- 
ury as to find the least fault with them. The wall was 
papered gray, with a large blue pattern, and there was a 
faded and frayed ingrain carpet on the floor. A very sm'all* 
stand of pine-wood, with a drawer for soap, held the wash- 
bowl and pitcher ; the thin little towel was suspended from 
a nail. I had, further, an old chest with three drawers, sur- 
mounted by a square foot of mirror, and, as Swansford had 
dropped a hint that I was a young man of literary habits, 
Mrs. Very considerately added a little table, with one 
shrunk leg, which I steadied by means of folded newspa- 
pers. The bed was smaller and harder than any I had be- 
fore occupied. The change from the spacious beds of 
Berks County was like that from a pond to a bath-tub, and 
I could no longer stretch myself in all directions with im- 
punity. It was symbolic of the contraction which my hopes 
and my plans had suffered. 

Swansford had obtained two or three pupils, at moderate 
terms, in the vicinity, and these, with his own studies, kept 
him employed the greater part of the day ; but I had noth- 
ing to do except write and keep my eyes open for any chance 
that might turn up. When we met for dinner at five 
o'clock, — which hour had been chosen by Mrs. Very, as 
she informed me, on account of Mr. Mortimer, who was as- 
sistant teller in one of the Bowery Banks, — I was formally 
presented to my fellow-boarders. Mr. Mortimer was a 



196 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

grave, middle-sized man of forty, whose authority in that 
genteel circle was evidently only less than the landlady's. 
The outward projection of his right ear-flap, and a horizontal 
groove in his short hair, showed that the pen had grown to 
be a member of his body. His wife, a lady some five years 
younger, was taller than hunself, though in dignity of de- 
portment she harmonized fully. Her neck was a very stiff 
prolongation of her spine, and she had a way of bending 
her head the least in the world when she spoke to you, as 
much as to say, " I will subdue my feelings and condescend 
to speak." She was always dressed in dark silk, and her 
skirts rustled a great deal. Even in my attic, whenever I 
heard a shrill, sweeping noise, like the wind through a dead 
thorn-bush, I knew that Mrs. Mortimer was passing up or 
down-stairs. 

The two remaining ladies were Miss Tatting, and her 
niece, Miss Dunlap. The former kept a trimming-store in 
Grand Street, in which the latter officiated as her assistant. 
There was less difference between the ages of the ladies 
than their relationship would indicate. It was difficult, in 
fact, to decide upon this question, especially in the case of 
the former ; she might have been tw^enty-five and old-look- 
ing, or carrying forty summers with an air of youth. The 
necessity of unbending to her customers had given her an 
easy, familiar manner, which seemed occasionally to shock 
the dehcate sensibilities of Mrs. Mortimer. Though com- 
paratively uncultivated, she had a good deal of natural 
shrewdness, and was well skilled in the use of her tongue. 
Her niece was cast in a similar yet softer mould. A vein 
of sentunent, somewhat weak and faded now, to be sure, 
ran through her composition. But she was an amiable 
creature, and I have not the heart to dwell upon this little 
weakness, even if it had been more grotesquely developed. 
When Mrs. Very took her seat at the head of the table 
(Mr. Mortimer facing her at the foot), her face was still 
flushed from her superintendence in the kitchen, but her 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 197 

hair had been rapidly compelled to order, a silk cape was 
substituted for the velvet one, and correctly fastened. A 
small black girl stood at her elbow. " ^ 

No grace was said, although the landlady waited until 
Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer had lifted their eyes from their 
plates. Then she questioned each of us in turn, " Shall I 
send you some of the soup to-day ? " After the soup, Mr. 
Mortimer carved a piece of roast-beef, while Mrs. Very ad- 
dressed herself to a diminutive remainder of cold ham. 
Potatoes, turnips, and spinage boiled .in an uncut, tangled 
mass, completed the repast. 

Conversation rose as appetite declined, and after various 
commonplaces had been discussed, Mrs. Very suddenly ex- 
claimed, " Wlio do you think I met, coming home from 
market, Mrs. Mortimer ? " 

The lady addi'essed slightly curved her neck and an- 
swered, in the mild voice of propriety, " I 'm sure I don't 
know." 

« Her ! " 

" Indeed ! " said Mrs. Mortimer. 

" You don't mean Mrs. Gamble, now, do you ? " asked 
Miss Tatting, suspending her fork in the air. 

" Mrs. Gamble ! " echoed Mrs. Very, with an air of tri- 
umph. "They were walking together, and there was no 
mistaking her at once. She seems to carry her head high 
enough, for all the trouble, and I should n't wonder if 
they 'd cave in, though they have said he should never 
darken their doors. I 've asked them to come around to 
tea some evening." 

" Will they come ? " all three of the ladies exclaimed at 
once. 

" They promised positive they would, but could n't name 
the day certain. He does n't look a bit down about it, I 
must say. Perhaps they '11 come round when they find it 
only hurts themselves. I was in such a hurry that I could 
n't ask many questions." 



198 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

This theme was pursued by Mrs. Yery's domestic circle 
with lively interest. I gradually discovered that Mr. Gam- 
ble was my own predecessor in the attic room, and at the 
genteel board where I now sat. 

The occasion of his leaving was his marriage with the 
daughter of a prosperous shoe-dealer, who was opposed to 
the match on account of Mr. Gamble being only clerk for 
a soap-boiling firm. The young lady, however, had a will 
of her own, and boldly married, in defiance of her par- 
ents. She had not returned home after the ceremony, but 
sent for her wardrobe, which the angry father refused to 
give up. The happy couple made a short wedding-trip to 
the bridegroom's relatives in the country, and were just re- 
turning to the city when Mrs. Very was so fortunate as to 
intercept them. Of course, everybody at the table espoused 
the cause of Mr. and Mrs. Gamble, the former being still 
claimed as a member of the family. It was well known 
that he would have remained, but for the lack of proper 
accommodations, and I fancy Mrs. Mortimer would have 
willingly seen a vacancy made for the romantic pair, by the 
removal of Miss Tatting and her niece. 

By the time our dessert of rice-pudding was reached, this 
topic had been quite exhausted, and the conversation be- 
came mixed and lively. I talked across the table to Swans- 
ford about a story which had just appeared in one of the 
Philadelphia magazines, while Mrs. Very's and Mr. Morti- 
mer's remarks crossed ours at right angles. Miss Dunlap 
listened to us, and her aunt was occupied with the stately 
Mrs. Mortimer, apparently on the mysteries of dress, for I 
caught such phrases as " a great demand for chenilles," 
" corn-color coming up again," etc. etc. 

The same scene repeated itself every day — with slight 
variations. We had veal sometunes, instead of beef, and 
tapioca instead of rice. Mrs. Mortimer walked in Broad- 
way, and often found subjects for short, decorous, conde- 
scending narratives. Swansford was questioned about his 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 199 

musical compositions, and variously advised, — Miss Dunlap 
hoping that he would write an opera, while Mrs. Mortuner 
thought an oratorio would be much more elevated. The 
boarding-houses of Bevins and Applegate, in the same street, 
were discussed with acrid satire, in which Mrs. Very heart- 
ily joined. In short, the latter's effort to create a harmo- 
nious domestic circle was entirely successful, so far as the 
satisfaction of the members witt themselves was concerned. 

I had been an inmate of the house about a week when I 
achieved my first success. Mr. Jenks, after postponing his 
decision and keeping me on thorns for three days longer, 
finally made up his mind to accept my miUinery story, with 
the proviso that I changed the denouement, and instead of an 
elopement reconciled lanthe's parents to the match. " The 
Hesperian," he said, was a family magazine, and designed to 
contain nothing which could plant an unconventional or 
rebellious thought in the breast of infancy. There had 
been several elopements in the pre^dous stories, and he had 
already heard complaints. The article was pleasantly w^t- 
ten, and he thought I might succeed in ttiat line, provided 
I took care to " give a moral turn " to my sketches. What 
could I do ? Swansford's experience with Kettlewell now 
came home to me with a vengeance, but I grinned (I am 
afraid I came very near cursing) and endured. _ For the 
story thus mutilated I was to receive five dollars after its 
appearance. I immediately commenced another story, in 
which the characters were absolute angels and devils, wind- 
ing up by assigning the former to Paradise and the latter 
to Hades. The moral of that, I thought, would be plain 
enough. 

I now wrote a page to Dan Yule, stating that I was well, 
and hoped he was, wdth a few little particulars of my life, 
which I thought would interest him. Inclosed was a letter 
of sixteen pages for Amanda,, in which the joy^ of love, 
the sorrows of absence, and the longdnsfs for that assured 
fiiture which would bring us together again, were mixed in 



200 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

equal proportions. I know that my mind, released from 
the restraints imposed by publishers of moral and millinery 
tales, poured itself out freely and delightedly to the one 
ear which would hear me aright. It was my first letter, 
and I doubt whether her joy in receiving it was greatei 
than mine in writing it. 

Swansford knew nothing, as yet, of my attachment. Al- 
though we had become earnest friends, I could not open to 
him this chamber of my heart. Our talk was mostly upon 
our " kindred arts," as we styled them. I w^as even more 
desirous than he to supply the words for his own melodies, 
and we made, one day, a double experiment. I gave him 
my last and, of course, sweetest song, taking in return a 
pensive, plaintive air which he had just written, and set 
myself to express it in words as he mine in music. The 
result was only partially satisfactory. I reproduced, toler- 
ably, the sentiment of the air, but I was ignorant of the 
delicate affinity between certain vowel sounds and certain 
musical notes — whence, though my lines were better than 
Swansford's, they were not half so easy to sing. This dis- 
covery led to a long conversation and an examination of 
the productions of various popular song-writers, the result 
of which was an astonishing conviction of my own igno- 
rance. 

I should have enjoyed this vagabond life thoroughly, 
nevertheless, but for the necessity which impelled me to 
secure some sort of provision for the future. I saw no way 
of reaching the Olympian society of the celebrated authors, 
or in otherwise dragging myself out of the double insignifi- 
cance (compared with my position in Upper Samaria) into 
which I had fallen. Week after week went by, yielding 
me nothing but an accumulation of manuscripts. I was 
obliged to procure a few better articles of clothing than I 
had brought with me, and t^is made a great hole in my 
funds. Indeed, with strict economy, they would barely last 
another month. Many a night I lay awake, revolving plans 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 201 

which brightened and grew rosy with the excitement of my 
brain ; but, when morning came, the color had faded out 
of them, and they seemed the essence of absurdity. 

I was not devoid of practical faculties, but they had hith- 
erto lain dormant, or been suppressed by the activity of the 
tastes and desires first awakened. I now began to find a 
wide vibration in my nature, between the moods of night 
and day ; but their reciprocal action hastened my develop- 
ment. Still, I was at heart a boy, and troubled with a boy's 
restless impatience. I had no suspicion of the many and 
the inevitable throes which men as well as planets must 
endure, before chaos is resolved into form. 



202 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER XYI. 

DESCRIBING MR. WINCH's RECONCILIATION BALL AND ITS 
TWO FORTUNATE CONSEQUENCES. 

A FORTNIGHT after my introduction into Mrs. Yery's do- 
mestic circle, Mr. and Mrs. Gamble redeemed their prom- 
ise of coming to tea. The important event was announced 
at dinner on the previous day, and little else was spoken 
of until the appointed evening came. Mrs. Very informed 
us, with a solemn air, that we should assemble in the parlor 
instead of the basement dining-room : Mr. Gamble, as a 
member of her family, should be treated just as well as 
if he were her own brother (" son," I thought, would have 
been more appropriate), and the Winches should see what 
her behavior was, as compared with theirs. They might 
hurt her, if they liked : thank Fortune, her house was well- 
known, and her boarders stood by her faithful. 

" Yes," said Mr. Mortimer, with becoming gravity, " we 
must give Gamble a lift, now he 's in trouble. Old Winch 
keeps his deposits in our bank, but I won't let that stand 
between me and what 's right." 

Mrs. Mortuner bent her stiff neck assentingly. 

We were all seated in the parlor when the bell rang. 
Mrs. Yery trimiiphantly issued into the hall and received 
the interesting couple, while we waited in silent expecta- 
tion until the usual rustling up and down stairs should an- 
nounce that the bride had adjusted her toilette. Then she 
entered, dark, full, and voluptuous in her form, and resplen- 
dent in a dead golden-colored silk. Mr. Gamble, beside 
her, dwindled into a very commonplace individual, as he 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 203 

no doubt was. He was cordially, if somewhat stiffly, con- 
gratulated — for the Very idea of gentility was too con- 
scious of itself to be easy — by his old friends, and the 
bride received the same with an added tint of gracious 
deference. She, however, understood the interest of her 
position, and determined to enjoy it. 

" Oh, I have heard of you all, from Harry ! " she ex- 
claimed, shaking hands with everybody, even myself, to 
whom she said, — " So, you have fallen heir to his room ! 
Don't you let hum in, if he ever repents of his bargain and 
wants to come back ! " 

Then she cast a loving, mischievous glance at her hus- 
band, who was radiant with pride at the gay fascination of 
her manner. " Now you see, Laura, from what company 
you have taken me away," he said, with a semicircular 
bow which embraced Mrs. Very, Mrs. Mortimer, and Mss 
Tatting. " It was a hard struggle, I assure you." And he 
heaved a mock sigh. 

" You can't make us believe that," said Miss Tatting, 
tapping him on the arm with a large green fan. 

This is a fair specimen of the conversation during tea. 
It was not very intellectual, I admit, but it was quite a 
pleasant and entertaining change from our usual routine, 
and I enjoyed it amazingly. Mrs. Gamble was the life of 
the company. Being privileged to give the tone of the 
evening, she did so with a will, and it was astonishing how 
much fun and laughter we produced from the most trifling 
themes. After her departure we were all loud in our ex- 
pressions of achniration. It was decided, without a dissent- 
ing voice, that Mrs. Ver/s family circle would henceforth 
espouse the cause of the Gambles against the Winches. 

About the middle of May, however, we were surprised by 
a rmnor that the unnatural father had been led, either by 
policy or penitence, to relent, and that Mr. Gamble would 
shortly give up his situation in the soap-boiling establish- 
ment, to take an important post in Winch & Son's shoe- 



204 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

store. I know not whether Mrs. Very or the Mortimers 
were most flattered by this news : either party was sure 
that their countenance of the match had something to do 
with it. The cUmax to the general satisfaction was given 
by a package of notes which came, a few days afterwards, 
stating that IsLr. and Mrs. Franklin Winch requested the 
pleasure of our company, on Thursday evening, at their 
residence, No. 322 Columbia Street. 

There was no difficulty in comprehending the nature of 
this event. Mr. Winch, having made up his mind to do 
the proper thing, intended to do it in the proper way, 
crushing gossip and family estrangement with the same 
blow. The temptation to attend the ball was too great to 
be resisted, and our inveterate hostility to the Winches 
came therefore to a sudden end. . 

When the evening arrived, we marched across the Grand- 
Street region, like a well-ordered family, Mrs. Very taking 
Mr. Mortimer's other arm. Miss Tatting Swansford's, and 
Miss Dunlap mine. A waiter, in white cotton gloves, whom 
I at first took for Winch junior, received us at the door, 
and ushered us up-stairs to our respective dressing-rooms. 
Here were various other gentlemen, giving the finishing 
touch to their scented and glistening hair, and drawing on 
their new white kids. I imitated their movements, and 
tried my best to appear at ease and au fait to such occa- 
sions. When we descended to the parlor, Mr. Gamble 
came forward at once to greet us, and presented us with a 
respectful flourish to the obdurate Winch pere, who looked 
imposing in his blue coat with gilt buttons, bufi" Marseilles 
vest, and high white cravat. Mrs-. Winch, dark, like her 
daughter, but shrivelled, which the latter was not, stood 
beside her lord, in black satin, evidently as happy as she 
could well be. The reconciliation, in fact, was supposed to 
be mainly her work. 

We, as the son-in-law's friends, received conspicuous at- 
tention. Mrs. Gamble welcomed us like old acquaintances, 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 205 

and glided hither and thither with a lazy grace, as she 
strove to stir up and blend us with the other social ele- 
ments of which the party was composed. This was not 
difficult in the case of my companions, and I resolved, in 
my ignorance of New York habits, to imitate them in ev- 
erything. Accordingly, when Mrs. Gamble asked me if I 
should not like to be introduced to a young lady " of a lit- 
erary turn," in whom I might discover " a congenial spirit," 
I acquiesced with enthusiasm, and soon found myself seated 
beside Miss Levi, a remarkable girl, with very black hair 
and eyebrows, and a prominent nose. Her forehead was 
so low, that, at a distance, it looked like a white stripe over 
her eyebrows. She wore a dress which not merely showed 
. her shoulders, but the upper undulations of her bosom, so 
that, whenever she bent forward, my gaze fell into a won- 
derful twilight region, which caused me to blush with the 
sense of having committed an impropriety. 

"Mrs. Gamble tells me you are a poet, Mr. Godfrey," 
she said. (How had Mrs. Gamble learned that so soon ? ) 
" Oh, I write a little," I modestly answered. 
" How charming ! I doat on poetry. Won't you repeat 
to me some of yours ? " 

I was rather taken aback at this proposition, but, taking 
it for granted that Miss Levi knew the ways of society 
better than myself, I repeated to her, in a low voice, and 
with some confusion, the last song I had written. 

" It is beautiful ! " she exclaimed, fixing her large, jet- 
black eyes upon me with a power I could scarcely endure 

to meet. " Beautiful ! You must have been inspired 

does she live in the city ? " 

" Who ? " I asked, feeling that my face sufficiently be- 
trayed me. 

"How can you ask *who?' Mr. Godfrey? Ah, you 
poets are a sad class of men. I 'm afraid you are all incon- 
stant ; tell me, do you think you can be faithful to her ? " 

Some imp prompted me to reply, "I never had any 
doubt of it before this evening." 



206 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" Oh, Mr. Godfrey ! " she "exclauned, " that is too bad ! 
Now I know you are not in earnest." But she looked at 
me very much as if she would like me to insist that I was. 
I could not carry the farce any further, so endeavored to 
change the subject by asking, " Do you write. Miss Levi ? " 

" I ought not to tell you," she answered ; " but I can 
feeir 

Our talk was here interrupted, probably on the brink of 
sweet intellectual disclosures, by the sound of the piano. 
It was Swansford, whom Mrs. Gamble had persuaded to 
favor the company with one of his compositions. He gave, 
to my surprise, the very song I had just repeated to Miss 
Levi, with a tender and beautiful melody of his own. This 
generosity touched me, — for generosity it really was, when 
he might have sung his own words. He looked towards 
me and smiled, at the close, seeing my gratitude in my 
eyes. 

Shortly afterwards I was released from Miss Levi, who 
took Swansford's place, and sang, " You '11 Remember Me," 
in a piercing voice. Various songs of the same class fol- 
lowed, and, even with my own uncultured taste, I could 
easily understand the look of distress on Swansford's face. 

The double parlor was crowded, and it was not long be- 
fore the songs gave way to the music of two violins and a 
harp, stationed under Mr. Winch's portrait, between the 
front windows. The carpets had been taken up, so that 
everybody expected dancing. Having a slight familiarity 
with quadrilles, from the " gatherings " in Upper Samaria, 
I secured Miss Dunlap, as the partner with whom I should 
•be least embarrassed, and, after that, was kept well supplied 
through the efforts of the Gambles and young Winch. 
When the waltz came, I withdrew to a corner and watched 
the softly whirling pairs, conspicuous among whom were 
the hero and heroine of the evening. It was delightful to 
see the yielding grace with which she trusted herself to his 
arm, drifting like a swan on the eddies of a stream, while 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 207 

her hands lay clasped on his shoulder, and her large, dark 
eyes lifted themselves to his. HajDpy pair ! K I were he, 
and she were Amanda ! — but I ground the thought between 
my teeth, and stifled the impatience of my heart. 

Towards midnight we marched down to a room in the 
basement, where a superb supper was arranged. Mrs. Very 
sujDposed that it must have cost fifty dollars, and she was 
capable of forming an opinion. There were oysters, salads, 
pates, jellies, brandy-peaches, and bon-bons, with tea, coffee, 
ices, ani chamiDagne. I now discovered that I had a natural 
taste for these luxuries, and was glad to see that Swansford 
partook of them with a relish equal to my own. The iced 
champagne, which I had never before tasted, seemed to me 
the nectar of the gods. Young Winch filled my glass as 
often as it was emptied, for a few short, jolly speeches were 
made and a great many toasts drunk. The ladies filtered 
away before we knew it, and we were first aroused from our 
delightful revelry by Mr. Mortimer, who came, hat in hand, 
to announce that the Misses Tatting and Dunlap were wait- 
ing for us. 

On the way home I confided to the latter my interview 
with J\Iiss Levi, and had it on my tongue's end to tell her 
about Amanda. I longed to pour out my heart to a sympa- 
thizing ear, and would probably have done it, had Hester 
Street been a little farther off. 

On reaching the attic I went into Swansford's room for 
a little chat, before going to bed. He was highly excited. 
He looked up at the lithographs of Mendelssohn and Beet- 
hoven, shook his fist, and cried, " Oh, you grand old Trojans, 
did you ever have to endure what I have ? I don't believe 
it ! You had those around who knew what you were, and 
what your art is, but I, — see here, Godfrey ! This is the 
insane, idiotic stuff that people go into ecstasies about." 

He sat down to the piano, played a hideous, flashy accom- 
paniment, and sang, with extravagant voice and gesture, one 
of the sentimental sonors to which we had been treated. 



208 JOHN" GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

I threw myself back on his bed, in convulsions of laugh- 
ter. 

" My words are poor enough," he continued, " but what 
do you say to these : — 

" ' When ho-liollow hearts shall wear a mask, 
'Twill break your own to see-he-hee, 
In such a mo-homent, I but ask 

That you '11 remember — that you '11 re-MEM-ber 
— you '11 re — me-he-hem — be-e-e-r me ! ' 

— oh, and the young ladies, turn up their eyes like ducks 
in a thunder-storm, at that, and have no ear for the splendid 
passion of ' Adelaida'! It's enough to make one despise 
the human race. I could grind out such stuiFby the bushel ; 
why not take my revenge on the fools in this way ? Why 
not give them the absurdest satire, which they shall suck 
down as pure sentiment ? I '11 laugh ^t them, and they '11 
pay me for it ! Come, Godfrey, give me some nonsense 
which will pass for a fashionable song ; I 'm in the humor 
for a bit of deviltry to-night." 

" Agreed ! " I cried, springing from the bed. I eagerly 
caught at the idea, for it seemed like a personal discharge 
of my petty spite against Miss Levi. I took a pencil and 
the back of a music-sheet, and, as sense was not material 
to the composition, in a short time produced the follow- 
ing:— 

" Away, my soul ! This withered hand 
NTo more may sing of joy : "* . 

The roses redden o'er the land 

Which autumn gales destroy ; 
But when my hopes shall shine as fair 

As bowers beneath the hill, 
I '11 bid the tempest hear my prayer, 
And dream you love me still ! 

" The sky is dark : no stars intrude 

To bind the brow of day. 
Oh, why should love, so wildly wooed, 

Refuse to turn away 2 
The lark is loud, the wind is high. 

And Fate must have her will : 
Ah, nought is left me but to die, 

And dream you love me still ! " 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 209 

"The very thing!" exclahned Swansford, wipmg away 
tears of the laughter which had twice interrupted my reading. 
" I 've got the melody ; give me the candle, and we 'II have 
the whole performance." 

He sang it over and over with the purest, most rollicking 
relish introducing each time new and fantastic ornaments, 
until the force of burlesque could no farther go. My in- 
tense enjoyment of the fun kept up his inspiration, and the 
melody, with its preposterous accompaniment, was fairly 
written before our merry mood began to decline. The 
piece was entitled " A Fashionable Song," and we decided 
that it should be offered to a publisher the very next day. 

It was late when I awoke, and in the practical reaction 
from the night's excitement I thought very little of the 
matter until the sound of Swansford's piano recalled it. 
He met me, smiling, as he said, " Our song is really not a 
bad thing of its kind, though the kind is low enough. But, 
of course, we need never be known as the authors." 

He put on his hat, and went out, with the manuscript in 
his hand. I accompanied him as far as the Park, in order 
to make a call, to which I did not attach any particular 
hope, (I had been too often disappointed for that !) but in 
fulfilment of a promise. Among the new acquaintances I 
had made at the Winch ball, was a Mr. Lettsom, who was 
acting as a law reporter for various daily papers. In the 
course of a little conversation which I had with him, I 
mentioned my wish to obtain literary employment of some 
kind, and asked w^hether he knew of any vacancy. He in- 
formed me that reporting was the surest resource for a 
young man who was obliged to earn his living by his pen. 
Most of the prominent editors, he said, had begun life either 
as reporters or printers, and there could be no better school 
in which to make one's talent ready and available. 

Something in Mr. Lettsom's plainness, both of face and 
manner, inspired me wnth confidence in his judgment, and 
I eagerly accepted his invitation to call upon him at the 
14 



210 JOHN GODFREY'^ FORTUNES. 

office of the Daily Wonder, where I hoped, at least, to hear 
something that would put me on the right track. 

I found him in the fourth story of the building, at a little 
desk in the corner of a room filled with similar desks, at 
which other gentlemen were either writing or inspecting 
enormous files of newspapers. A large table in the centre 
of the room was covered with maps, dictionaries, and books 
of reference. There was not much conversation, except 
when a man with smutty hands, a paper cap on his head, 
and a newspaper tied around his waist, came in and said, 
" Hurry up with that foreign news copy ! It 's time the 
Extra was out ! " To me the scene was both strange and 
unposing. This was the Delphic cave whence was uttered 
the daily oracular Voice, which guided so many thousands 
of believing brains ; these were the attendant priests, who 
sat in the very adytum of the temple and perhaps assisted 
in the construction of the sentences of power. 

There was nothing oracular about Mr. Lettsom. With 
his thin face, sandy eyebrows, and quiet voice, he was as 
ordinary a man in appearance as one will meet in a day's 
travel. He seemed, and no doubt was, incapable of enthu- 
siasm ; but there was a mixture of frankness, Idndness, and 
simple good-sense in him which atoned for the absence of 
any loftier faculty. I had no claim whatever upon his 
good offices ; he scarcely knew more of me than my name, 
and had only asked me to step in to him at an hour when 
he should have a little leisure for talk. I was, therefore, 
quite overcome, when, after the first greetings, he said, — 

" I have been making inquiries this morning, at the 
newspaper offices. It is a pity I did not meet you sooner, 
as the Anniversaries, when extra work is always needed, 
are nearly over ; but there may be a chance for you here. 
It depends upon yourself, if Mr. Clarendon, the chief edi- 
tor of the Wonder, is satisfied to try you. An insignificant 
post, and poorly paid, at first, — but so are all beginnings. 
So many young men come to the city with high expecta- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 211 

tions, that there would be no difficulty in getting any num- 
ber of full-grown editors and critics, while the apprentices' 
places are rarely in demand. I tell you this beforehand. 
We will now call on Mr. Clarendon." 

Before I could recover my breath, we were in the sacred 
presence, in a small adjoining room. Mr. Claitendon sat at 
a library table, which rested on a countless array of draw- 
ers. He was writing rapidly on long, narrow slips of pa- 
per, which he numbered and transferred from his right to 
his left hand as they were finished. He must have heard 
our entrance, but neither lifted his head nor noticed us in 
any way until Mr. Lettsom announced, — 

" This is Mr. Godfrey, the young gentleman about whom 
I spoke to you this morning." 

" Very well, Lettsom," — and the latter left the room. 
Mr. Clarendon bowed in an abstracted way, pointed with 
the top of his quill to a chair on the other side of the ta- 
ble, and resumed his writing. 

He was a man of middle age, good presence, and with 
an expression of penetration, shrewdness, and decision in 
his cUstinctly moulded features. His head was massive and 
finely formed ; the hair, once light-brown, was now almost 
wholly gray, and the eyes of that rich golden-bronze tint 
which is as beautiful as it is rare. Although his frame was 
large, I was struck by the smallness, whiteness, and sym- 
metry of his hand. 

I took the seat indicated, and waited for him to speak. 
He wrote half of one of his slips, and then, having appar- 
ently finished a paragraph, said, without looking up, — 

" So, you want to try your hand at newspaper work ? " 

I assented, stating that I was willing to perform any kind 
of literary labor of which I might be capable. 

" You have never done anything of the sort, I suppose. 
Have you ever written for publication ? " 

« Yes." 

"What?" 



212 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

The few poems and the accepted story seemed very in- 
significant now, — but they were all I had. I mentioned 
them. 

" That is hardly a recommendation," he said, resmning 
his writing ; " rather the reverse. We want a plain style, 
exact adhertnce to facts, and above all — quickness. You 
may have these qualities, nevertheless. Let us see." 

He turned over a pile of newspapers at his right hand, 
selected, almost at random, the Baltimore American, and 
handed it to me, saying, " You will find the city-news on 
the third page. Look over it and tell me if you see any- 
thing of sufficient importance to copy." 

" Nothing, unless it is this — ' Conflagration at Fell's 
Point,' " I answered, after rapidly running my eye up and 
down the columns. 

" Now go to yonder table — you will find pen and paper 
there — and condense this half-column account into fifteen 
lines, giving all the material facts." 

How lucky it is, I thought, as I prepared to obey, that I 
went through such a thorough course of amplification and 
condensation at the Honeybrook Academy ! My mind in- 
stantly reverted to the old drill, and resmned something of 
its mechanical dexterity. In fifteen or twenty minutes I 
had performed the work, Mr. Clarendon, in the mean tune, 
writing steadily and silently on his narrow slips. 

" It is done, sir," I said, venturing to interrupt him. 

" Bring it here." 

I handed him both the original article and my abbrevi- 
ated statement. He compared them, as it seemed to me, 
by a single glance of the eye. Such rapidity of mental ac- 
tion was little short of the miraculous. 

" Fairly done, for a beginner," he then remarked. " I 
will try you, Mr. Godfrey. This will be the kind of work 
I shall first give you. You will make blunders and omis- 
sions, until you are better broken to the business. Six 
dollars a week is all you are worth now ; will that satisfy 
you ? " 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 213 

Satisfy ? It was deliverance ! It was a branch of Pac- 
tolus, bursting at my feet, to bear me onward to all golden 
possibilities ! I blundered forth both my assent and grati- 
tude, which Mr. Clarendon, having completed his article, cut 
short by conducting me to the larger room, where he pre- 
sented me to one of the gentlemen whom he addressed as 
Mr. Severn, saying, " Mr. Godfrey is to be set at condens- 
ing the miscellaneous. He will come here at ten o'clock 
to-morrow morning. Have an eye to him now and then." 

Mr. Severn, who had a worn and haggard look, was evi- 
dently glad to learn that I was to relieve him of some of 
his duties. His reception was mildly cordial, and I was a 
little surprised that he betrayed no more curiosity to know 
who or what I was. 

Overflowing with joy at my unexpected good fortune, I 
hastened back to Mrs. Very's to communicate the happy 
news to Swansford. But I was obliged to control my im- 
patience until late in the afternoon. When at last I heard 
his step coming up the stairs, I threw open my door and 
beckoned him in. He, too, seemed no less excited than 
myself. Flinging his hat upon my bed, he cried out, 
" Godfrey ! " at the same instant that I cried — 

" Swansford ! such news ! hurrah ! " 

" Hurrah ! " he echoed, but his face fell. " Why, who 
told you?" 

^' Who told me ? " I asked, in surprise ; " why, it happened 
to me ! " 

" What happened to you ? Good God ! " he exclaimed in 
sudden alann, " you have not gone and sold the song to 
somebody else ? " 

In the tumult of my thoughts, I had forgotten all about 
the song. With a hearty laugh at the comical expression 
on Swansford's face, I pushed hun into a chair and trium- 
phantly told him my story. 

" I congratulate you, Godfrey," he said, giving me his 
hand. " This is a lucky day for both of us. I thought I 



214 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

should astonish you, but there 's not much chance of that, 
now, and I 'm heartily glad of it." 

" Wliat do you mean ? " 

" Let me tell my story. When I left you at the Park 
Gate, I started to go down to Kettlewell's, but, by the time 
I had reached the Astor House, it occurred to me, that, as 
he deals in just such sentimental songs as we have bur- 
lesqued, I should have but a small chance of doing any- 
thing with him. Besides, I dislike the man, although he 
published my compositions when no one else would. So I 
turned about and went up street to Mackintosh, who 's at 
least a gentlemanly fellow. I produced the song, first told 
him what it was, saw that he thought the idea a good one, 
and then sang it as well as I could. There was another 
gentleman in the store, and they both laughed like the 
deuce when I wound up with the grand final cadenza. 
Mackintosh, I think, would have taken the song, but the 
other gentleman came up, clapped his hand on my shoulder, 
and said, ' I must have that. I '11 buy it, out and out. 
Joe shall sing it this very night ! ' I did n't know who he 
was, but Mackintosh then introduced him to me as Bridger, 
of Bridger's Minstrels. ' What 's your price, copyright and 
all ? ' he asked. Thinking it was a joke, I retorted with, 
' A hundred dollars.' ' Fifty,' said he. * No, a hundred,' I 
answered, keeping up the fim. 'Well — split the differ- 
ence. Say the word, and here 's your money.' * Seeing 
it 's you ' — I began to say, but before I had finished there 
were seventy-five dollars in my hand, — here they are ! — 
— and Bridger was writing a bill of sale, including the 
copyright. Mackintosh opened his eyes, but I pretended 
to take the matter coolly, though I hardly knew whether I 
was standing on my head or heels. But what a shame and 
humiliation ! Seventy-five dollars for a burlesque to be 
sung by Ethiopian Minstrels ! " 

"There's neither shame nor humihation about it!" I 
protested. " It 's grand and glorious ! Only think, Swans- 
ford, — ten weeks' board each for an hour's work ! " 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 215 

" / think of years of work, and not an hour of apprecia- 
tive recognition," said he, relapsing into sudden gloom. 

But my sunshine was too powerful for his shadow. I 
insisted on crowning this dies miraUlis with an Oljiiipian 
banquet in the best oyster-cellar of the Bowery, and car- 
ried my point. We had broiled oysters, a little out of sea- 
son, and a bottle of champagne, though Swansford would 
have preferred ale, as being so much cheaper. I was in a 
splendid mood, and again carried my point. 

This ravishing dawn of prosperity melted my soul, and 
there, in the little stall, scarcely separated from roystering 
and swearing bullies on either side, I whispered to Swans- 
ford my love for Amanda and my dreams of the future 
which we should share. 

He bent down his head and said nothing, but I saw a 
tear drop into his wine. 

We rose and walked silently homewards, arm in arm. 



216 JOHF GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER XVn. 

WHICH "condenses THE JiHSCELLANEOUS " OF A TEAR. 

The next day commenced for me a new life — a life of 
responsible, regulated labor, and certain, if moderate re- 
ward. It was not difficult to resmiie the harness, for my 
temporary freedom had not been sufficiently enjoyed to 
tempt me to prolong it. My life already possessed a seri- 
ous direction, leading, I fondly believed, to that home of 
my own creation which my poor mother had foreseen upon 
her death-bed. This hope was stronger at that time than 
any literary aspirations. Indeed, I would have sacrificed 
the latter without much regret, provided- another and more 
speedy path to wealth and distinction had presented itself. 
But my mind had received its bent from my cheaply won 
triumphs at the Honeybrook Academy, and I had too little 
experience of life to know how easily a young and plastic 
nature accommodates itself to different forms of training. 

I took my appointed desk in the editorial room of the 
Daily Wonder, and commenced my allotted labor of " con- 
densing the miscellaneous." I was so anxious to give satis- 
faction that no paper — even the most insignificant country 
sheet — passed through my hands without being carefully 
inspected. I sat at my desk from ten to twelve hours a 
day, selecting, condensing, and polishing my items, until 
Smeaton, the foreman of the composing-room, — the man 
with smutty hands and paper cap, — informed me, as he 
took my slips, " You do pile up the Miscellaneous in an 
awful way ; half of that will be crowded out of to-night's 
make-up." 



JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 217 

Not a fire, murder, railroad disaster, daring burglary, 
shocking accident, tragic occurrence, curious phenomenon 
or singular freak of nature, escaped my eyes ; and I was 
beginning to congratulate myself on my expertness, when, 
on the third day, I received a most unexpected humiliation. 
I had overlooked the result of an election to fill a vacancy 
in the Fourth Congressional District of Tennessee, — a 
circumstance which my colleagues who " condensed the 
miscellaneous " for the Marvel, the Monitor, and the Avenger, 
had all duly commemorated, thus distancing the Wonder 
for that day. Mr. Clarendon's wrath was both strong and 
freely expressed. It would have been still more severe, 
Mr. Severn informed me, but for the lucky chance that the 
" city editor," in reporting a fire in Broome Street, had ob- 
tained both the amount of insurance and the names of the 
companies, which were not mentioned in the rival dailies, 
and thereby partly compensated my oversight. I found 
that the rivalry extended to the smallest details in the com- 
position of a paper, and was felt as keenly by the subordi- 
nates of the establishment as by the principals. There was 
an eager comparison of the various journals every morning, 
and while the least advantage of the Wonder in point of 
news was the subject of general rejoicing, so the most in- 
significant shortcoming seemed to be felt by each as a per- 
sonal grievance. I very soon caught the infection, and 
became as sensitive a partisan as the rest. 

There was a marked change in Mr. Jenks's manner 
towards me when he discovered my new position. My 
short story wdth the unmistakable moral was accepted with 
some flattering remarks, to the effect that I was already 
unproving in style, and he thought he could afford to pay 
me ten dollars instead of five. He called me back when I 
was leaving his office, adding in a careless way, " Of course 
you know Mr. Withering, the literary critic of the Wonder. 
I wish you would just call his attention to the June number 
of ' The Hesperian.' Here is an extra copy for him." 



218 ' JOliN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

On Saturday afternoon I received the stipulated six dol- 
lars, which I felt had been well earned. This sum was 
sufficient to pay my board and all other necessary expenses, 
thus making me independent of literature and its scanty, 
uncertain returns. I was already so fortunate as to possess 
an occupation and a taste ; the narrow bounds of my life 
were satisfactorily filled. I not only felt but saw that 
others recognized in me a new importance. Even Mr. 
Mortimer, identifying me with the Wonder, seemed to take 
it for granted that I was the depository of much secret 
intelligence, in matters of current gossip, politics, or finance. 
The demand for my opinion on these matters created the 
supply, and it was astonishing how soon my words, until 
now shy, hesitating, and painfully self-distrustful, became 
assured and oracular. Eand's opinion, as to the necessity 
of certain metals, either in face or pocket, seemed about to 
be justified. 

When I returned home that evening, a new delight 
awaited me. Mrs. Very handed me a letter, addressed to 
"Mr. John Godfrey," in a coarse, awkward hand, which 
puzzled me a little until I noticed the post-mark, " Cardiff," 
in one corner. Then I rushed up to my room, locked the 
door, and tore open the envelope with trembling liaste. A 
delicate enclosure, of silky pink paper, and redolent of 
patchouly, dropped out ; but I resolutely inspected the 
rough husk before feasting my heart on the honeyed kernel. 
This was Dan's letter : — 

" SuNDAT, May the 23d. 

" Respected Friend, I reed, your favor in which you in- 
formed me that you was getting on so well and gave the 
other as you directed. Thought it best to wait for the 
other's answer, though there is no particular news. Sep 
Bratton goes to The Buck every day, and there's high 
goings on between him and the squire. Your friend Mr. 
Rand was there again. People say the squire is speculating 
about Pottsville, and will cut up pretty fat some day, which 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 219 

is no business of mine, but thought you might like to hear. 
We are all well, and mother and Sue says remember me to 
him. I guess Ben and her is satisfied with one another, 
but you need not say I told you. There is a mistress at 
the school this summer, a right smart young woman, her 
name is Lavina Wilkins. And hoping these few lines wUl 
find you enjoying good health, I remain, 

" Yours, respectfully, 

« Daniel Yule." 

This letter was almost like the touch of Dan's broad, 
honest hand ; it brought a breeze ftom the valley with it 
and a burst of sunshine, in which I beheld the pond, the 
shaded foot-path, and the lonely bank beside the old hem- 
lock-tree. With a sigh of yearning tenderness I stretched 
forth my empty arms and murmured, " Dear Amanda ! " 
Then I kissed the fragrant pink of the little note, and 
gloated over my own name, traced in fine Italian hand. 
The words looked so smooth, so demure, so gently calm — 
in short, so like herself! My heart thrilled with joy as I 
deciphered, on the fairy seal of sky-blue wax, scarcely 
larger than a three-cent piece, the words " toujours fidele." 
Afi;er this, I had no more power of abstinence. The com- 
ing joy must be tasted. 

Her letter was very short in comparison with mine, — so 
short, indeed, that after three readings I knew it by heart, 
and could repeat it to myself as I walked down Chatham 
Street. I can still -recall it, word by word. 

" Dear John," (there were volumes of withheld confession 
for me in that one adjective) : — 

" How pleased I was to get your heautiful letter ! Ma 
was not at home, so I was alone and could read it undis- 
turbed, fancying you were near me. Do you really think 
of me so 7nuch ? Do I ahvays seem present to you ? I 
can scarcely believe it yet, although you say it, and I feel 
in my heart that you are true. I am not afraid that when 



220 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

you get to be a great writer, you will forget me or any of us. 
Ohy it is a bliss to find one upon whom we can rely ! You 
may imagine how much I have thought about you since 
you left. It was so sudden, and I was so bewildered by what 
you said, and I cannot remember what / said or did. But 
I do not forget any of your words. They cannot be unsaid, 
can they ? Tell me truly, now, do you wish it could be so ? 

— but no, I will not ash the question. We were at Carters- 
town last Sunday, and Mr. Perego preached from the text 

— Love is strong as death. Jealousy cruel as the grave. I 
wished you could only have heard it ! How some people 
can be so jealous is past my comprehension: they can't 
have xmioh faith, it seems to me. 

" Oh, your letter was so beautiful ! so poetic ! I am quite 
ashamed to send you my prose in return. I have not your 
gift of expressing myself, and you must imagine all that I 
am not able to say. Do not ask too much of me. I am 
afraid you do not know all my deficiencies, and perhaps I 
had better stop now, lest I might disclose them to your 
gaze. Don't you think, with me, that speech is not neces- 
sary, where people understand each other's feelings ? I 
could be silent for years, if fate required it, not but what 
there is a great consolation in the interchange of thoughts. 
Your description of your life in New York w^as very inter- 
esting, and I want to hear more of it ; but now I must say 
ligood-bye, for fear of interruption. I cannot repeat, even 
,^ with the pen, your words at the close of your letter, but you 
K won't care about it now, will you ? • A. B. 

" P. S. — Oh, do not write very often — not more than 
once in two or three months. )lt would be dreadful if Pa 
or Ma or Sep should find it out. They all think I am a 
child with no mind of my own. And I cannot look Dan 
Yule in the face : he must suspect something, and what if 
he should get drunk and tell ! Not that he drinks, but we 
can't tell what may happen, and I am so frightened for fear 
our poor, harmless letters should fall into somebody's hands. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 221 

" N. B. — I have received the Hesperian through the 
Post-office. Sep brought it, but he did not know your 
hand. How lucky ! Leonora's Dream is 



How easily I read, in those artless, timid sentences, her 
shy, pure, yet steadfastly faithful maiden heart ! Even my 
own tumultuous utterances of passion lost their eloquence, 
beside the soft serenity of her voice. The tender playful- 
ness with which she avoided repeating the fond epithets I 
had used, quite charmed me. Love had donned a witch- 
ing, coquettish mask, well knowing that his own immortal 
eyes shone through it. I was completely happy, but an 
instinct told me not to intrude my joy on Swansford's mys- 
terious sorrow : so, that night, I kept my room and wrote 
another poem. 

My life now assumed a somewhat monotonous sameness. 
For months I strictly performed my appointed duties, in- 
creasing my circle of acquaintances but slightly, and acquir- 
ing no experiences which seem worthy of being recorded. 
My nature, apparently, was resting from the excitements of 
the previous year, and its rapid, partly enforced develop- 
ment was followed by a long period of repose. Little by 
little, however, I was gaining in knowledge of life, in self- 
reliance, and in power of discriminating between the true 
and the false, in men and things ; but in all these particu- 
lars I suspect I was still behind most young men of my 
own age. Certainly I saw not yet the out-cropping of the 
grosser elements of human nature which a great city brings 
to light, yet I began to feel a dim conviction that there was 
something, that my own innocence and ignorance were 
exceptional, and that, whether in the way of observation 
or experience, I had much to learn. 

About the beginning of winter, Mr. Clarendon, after 
informing me that he considered me tolerably well broken 
to the harness, and expressing his satisfaction with my 
punctual, steady habits of work, raised my salary to ten 



222 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

dollars a week. I was by this time able to do " the Miscel- 
laneous " much more rapidly, and was frequently called 
upon, in addition, to write short items about the weather, 
the appearance of the city on particular occasions, or such 
other indefinite subjects as might be safely intrusted to a 
new hand. Thus I became more and more, in my own 
estimation, an integral part of the Daily Wonder, but for- 
tunately did not feel the loss of the individuality which it 
absorbed. 

The increase of my salary, added to an occasional windfall 
from " The Hesperian," enabled me now to set about grat- 
ifying a secret desire which I had long cherished. This 
was nothing less than to publish a volume. Swansford, who 
had great faith in my abilities, advised me to this step ; but 
no persuasion was necessary to convince me of its expedi- 
ency. As the author of a popular book, I believed that 
Squire Bratton would bow his haughty crest before me, 
and Uncle Amos approach me with a penitent confession 
of misdemeanor. Instead of running at the stiriiip, as I 
had been doing, it was a bold leap into the saddle. Raised 
thus, a head and shoulders above the " heartless, unheeding 
crowd," I should spatter instead of being spattered. It was 
an enticing idea, and I had scarcely patience to wait for its 
fulfilment. 

In another respect, however, Swansford was perverse, 
and his perverseness greatly annoyed me. Our " Fashion- 
able Song " proved to be very popular. It was published 
as the composition of Bridger (of Bridger's Minstrels), and 
he, of course, received all the fame. It was even reported 
in the papers that his commission on the sale, he being 
owner of the copyright, amounted to more than a thousand 
dollars. I was furious when I read this to Swansford, but 
he only smiled, in his melancholy way, as he remarked, — 

" He is welcome to the money, and his success with that 
stuff reconciles me to my share of the pay. He would 
give a hundred dollars for another, Mackintosh tells me." 



JOHN" GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 223 

" Don't do it ! " I cried, eagerly.. "A hundred dollars 
and half the gains of the copyright will be little enough. 
Think what we have lost on the first one ! " 

" You forget, Godfrey, how glad we were to get it. Why, 
we should have been satisfied with one tenth of the sum. 
But I wrote the thing in a freak of disgust, which I have 
outlived, thank God ! Why should I allow such themes to 
enter my brain at all ? The time is too short, the mission 
too solemn, for this profane trifling." 

" But, Swansford," I cried, " you surely don't mean that 
you will not write another, if I furnish the words ? " 

" Yes," said he, gravely, and lowering his voice almost to 
a whisper ; " I am writing a symphony. "It will be my first 
efibrt at a v/ork which might be worthy to offer to those 
two Masters yonder, if they were alive. The first move- 
ment is finished — wait — sit down — don't interrupt me ! " 

He took his seat at the piano, drew up his coat-sleeves, 
turned back his wristbands, and commenced playing. It 
was a sad, monotonous theme, based, for the most part, on 
low, rumbling chords, which»reminded me, more than any- 
thing else, of distant thunder on the horizon of a summer 
night. A certain phrase, running into the higher notes, 
and thence descending by broad, lingering intervals, was 
several times repeated. The general effect of the compo- 
sition was weird and mystic ; I felt that I did not fully com- 
prehend its meaning. 

Swansford at last ceased and turned towards me with 
excited eyes. " There ! " he cried ; " I have carried it so 
far, but beyond that there is a confusion which I cannot yet 
unravel. This is only the presentiment of the struggle ; 
its reality is to come. I feel what it should be, but when 
my mind tries to grasp it, I encounter cloud instead of form. 
Oh, if I were sure of reaching it at last, I would gladly 
give sweat, blood, and agony ! " 

He covered his face with his hands, and bent forward 
over the piano. I recognized and envied in him the pres- 
ence of a consuming artistic passion. Involuntarily, I asked 



224 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

myself whether my love of literature possessed me with the 
same intensity, and was obliged to confess that it did not. 
I was a lover, not a worshipper. I was not strong enough 
to spurn an avenue of success, though it did not point to 
the highest goal. But I was at least capable of fitting rev- 
erence for Swansford's loftier and more delicately consti- 
tuted nature, and made no further reference, then, to the 
offer he had received. 

When I returned to the subject, a few days afterwards, I 
found him as stubborn as ever. My share of the money 
which we might earn so easily would have enabled me at 
once to publish my volume ; and as I was conscious of no 
special degradatimi in the first instance, so I could not for 
the life of me feel that a repetition of the joke would be a 
flagrant offence against either his art or mine. My repre- 
sentations to this effect were useless. He was completely 
absorbed in his symphony, and filled with a rapt, devotional 
spirit, which, by contrast with my position, made me seem 
a tempter, assailing him with evil suggestions. I was silent, 
and Bridger did not get his second song. 

During the winter my circle of experience was consider- 
ably enlarged. A small portion of the " complimentary " 
privileges of the Wonder fell to my share, and I made ac- 
quaintance with lectures, concerts, the di-ama, and the op- 
era. Swansford sometimes accompanied me to the latter, 
and from him I learned the character and significance of 
works which had else impressed me with a vague, voluptu- 
ous, unintelligent delight. In my leisure hours I undertook 
the task of preparing my poems for publication. I had too 
great a liking for my own progeny to reject any of them, 
but, even then, there were not more than enough to form a 
thin volimie of a hundred and twenty pages. The choice 
of a title puzzled me exceedingly. I hesitated for a long 
time between "' The Wind-Harp " and " JEolian Harmo- 
nies," until Swansford informed me that both were equally 
suggestive of monotonous effect. Then I went to the op- 
posite extreme of simplicity, and adopted " First Poems, by 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 225 

John Godfrey," — which the publisher, who was to lend me 
his imprint (I paying all the expenses of printing and bind- 
ing and receiving half the proceeds of the sales), rejected 
as fatal to success. It would never do, he said, to announce 
'■'•Fii^st Poems " ; nobody would buy them ; I must presup- 
pose that the public was familiar with my productions ; 
many persons bought, smiply to show that they kept up 
with the current literature, and the word " First " would 
tell them the whole story. Why not say " Leonora's 
Dream," (he saw that was the name of the leading poem,) 
" and Other Poems " ? And so it was settled. 

During all this time I had tried to gratify Amanda's wish 
with regard to the correspondence. It was hard, very hard, 
to endure three months' silence, but as she begged it for 
her sake, I tried to quiet my impatient heart and console 
myself with the knowledge of our mutual constancy. Her 
letters were short, but precious beyond computation. Her 
expressions were none the less sweet that they were con- 
stantly repeated ; did not I, also, repeat over and over, 
without the possibility of exhausting their emphasis, my 
own protestations of unalterable love ? I communicated 
my good fortune, with sure predictions of the bright future 
it heralded, but kept back, as a delicious surprise, the se- 
cret of my intended publication, and another plan which 
was to follow it. As it was now evident that the book 
could not be given to the world before May, and my 
twenty-first birthday occurred in June, I determined to 
steal a few days for a visit and present myself and my fame 
at the same time. I should come into possession of my 
legacy, and it would therefore be necessary to make a jour- 
ney to Reading. 

How my dreams expanded and blossomed in the breath 
of the opening spring ! Love, Manhood, and Money, — 
though the last was less than it had once seemed to me, — > 
how boundless was the first and how joyous the second ! 
15 



226 JOKN- GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER XYIII. 

IN WHICH I AGAIN BEHOLD AMANDA. 

Towards the end of May the important book appeared. 
I am sure that no immortal work was ever watched, through 
its different processes of incarnation, with such tender 
solicitude. I lingered over the first proofs, the revised 
proofs, and the printed and folded sheets, with a proud, 
luxurious interest, and the final consummation — the little 
volume, bound and lettered — was so precious that I could 
have kissed the leaves one by one. It' seemed incredible 
that the " John Godfrey " on the title-page really meant 
myself! A book for me had hitherto possessed a sublime, 
mystical individuality of its own, and this, which had grown 
beneath my hand, by stages of manufacture as distinctly 
material as those which go to the formation of a shoe or a 
stove, was now to be classed among those silent, eloquent 
personalities ! It might be placed side by side with " Para- 
dise Lost " or " Childe Harold," on book-shelves ; who could 
tell whither chance or fortune might not carry it, or what 
young and burning lips it might not help unseal ? 

A year previous, I should have been ready to expect the 
event announced by portents, such as precede the incarna- 
tion of a prophet, — murmurs in the air, — restless move- 
ments of the sea, — strange moods of expectancy in men. 
But all my boyish pyrotechnics of fancy had already dwin- 
dled down to a modest tallow-candle, and I had, now and 
then, my moments of severe doubt. My book, I now knew, 
was a venture, but whether strikingly and immediately suc- 
cessful, or the reverse, it would at least serve a purpose by 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 227 

bringing my name before the reading public, to say nothing 
of the dearer service which I confidently awaited from its 
publication. 

Copies were sent to all the principal newspapers and 
periodicals of Boston, New York, and Philadelphia, and to 
all prominent authors, inscribed on the fly-leaf: " With the 
respects of John Godfrey." My position in the Wonder. 
office gave me an opportunity of seeing whatever criticisms 
it might call forth, and from the day of publication I looked 
at the column of " Book Notices," before searching among 
the local news for condensable items. For nearly a week 
I saw nothing, and was nigh unto despair ; then came a 
few scattering notices, then dozens of them all together. 
They were mostly brief, but very pleasant. I was accredited 
with " tender' sentiment," " sweetness of versification," and 
" much promise." The result of these judgments not only 
satisfied, but elated me. A little poem, entitled " The Win- 
ter Wind," which I esteemed much less than the longer and 
more ambitious productions, was extensively copied. In the 
words of a western editor, it was " worthy of the pen of 
Amelia B. Welby." The faults of the volume were indi- 
cated in the same indefinite way as its merits ; — they were 
" want of maturity," " occasional violation of metre," or " re- 
dundancy of images, attributable to youth." Thus, although 
very few copies of the book were demanded of the pub- 
lisher, I considered it a flattering success. 

All these notices I cut out and carefully preserved in a 
separate pocket of my portfolio. I have them still. The 
other day, as I took them out and read them over with an 
objective scrutiny in which no shadow of my former interest 
remained, I was struck with the vague, mechanical stamp 
by which they are all characterized. I sought in vain 
for a single line which showed the discrimination of an en- 
lightened critic. The fact is, we had no criticism, worthy 
of the name, at that time. Our literature was tenderly 
petted, and its difllise, superficial sentiment was perhaps 



228 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

even more admired than its first attempts at a profounder 
study of its own appropriate themes and a noble assertion 
of its autonomy. That brief interregnum in England, during 
which such writers as Moir, B. Sunmons, T. K. Hervey, and 
Alaric A. Watts enjoyed a delusive popularity, had its 
counterpart on our side of the Atlantic. All our gentle, 
languishing echoes found spell-bound listeners, whom no 
one — with, perhaps, the single exception of Poe — -had 
the will to disenchant. Hillhouse and Dawes, Grenville 
Mellen and Brainard still sat high on Parnassus, and 
Griswold astonished us by disinterring a whole Pantheon 
of forgotten worthies. 

For my own part, I am grateful that it was so. I was 
warmed and cheered by generous words of welcome, of 
which I only felt the sincerity, not the critical nullity. My 
life was brightened and made hopeful at a time when — 
but I will not anticipate my story. The reader will learn, 
before I close, how far my maturer powers justified my 
early ambition, and he will acquit me of selfishness when 
I express the hope that all brambles may be put away from 
before the feet of others, as they were put away from mine. 
Whether or not I deserve the fame I then coveted, I am 
still gratefiil for the considerate kindness which did not 
venture to disturb a single illusion. What if those poems 
were but bubbles thrown up by the first warm fermentation 
of youth ? For me they displayed, none the less, their 
fragments of rainbow color, and I do not see why I should 
not rejoice in them while they lasted. Wliy, also, should 
any one say to me, " These are air and froth, not the im- 
perishable opals you imagine ? " No ; let rather me, and 
all such as brighten their lives with similar dreams, be 
deceived ! 

I had worked steadily and faithfriUy for a year, at my desk 
in the Wonder ofiice, and Mr. Clarendon did not refuse my 
petition for a week's holiday. Severn agreed to perform my 
duties, in addition to his own, during my absence, with the 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 229 

understanding that I should return the service, later in the 
summer. To Swansford I confided so much of my intention 
as regarded the business with my uncle, reserving the rest 
until my return, for I was still uncertain how Squire Bratton 
would receive the knowledge of my attachment to Amanda. 
The dear fellow sympathized heartily with my unproving 
prospects. He believed in the promise of my volume, be- 
cause it Was better than he could have done, and his pre- 
dictions of my success in literature were even more enthu- 
siastic than my own secret hopes. He was a faithful friend ; 
would that my conscience allowed me to say the same of 
myself! 

My last letter from Amanda had been received in March. 
It was brief and hurried, and at any other time would have 
failed to satisfy the cravings of my heart. But I was al- 
ready deep in the ecstasy of my " first proofs," and looking 
forward to the double surprise I was hoarding up for her. 
" John," she wrote, " do not be angry at my short letter, to- 
day, for indeed I am dreadfully afraid Sep, or Dan, or some- 
body suspects something. Sep asked me the other day 
whether I had heard from you. I- thought I should sink 
into the ground, but I had to look him in the face and tell 
a fib. I know it was n't right, and you would not like me 
to do it, but there were Pa and Ma in the room. I am well, 
only so nervous., you cannot think. Dan looks at me so queer, 
every time we meet. I am not sure that it is right for us 
to correspond in this underhanded way, but you know it was 
your proposition. I hope you won't take it hard that I 
should say so, but indeed I wish there was some other way 
in which we could exchange our thoughts. Mr. Perego and 
his wife are here to tea, and I have only five minutes to 
myself We see a good deal of company now, and it takes 
up all my time, nearly. I sometimes wish I was my own 
mistress, but I suppose such thoughts are wrong. At any 
rate, I am patient, and you can be a little so, too, — can't 
you ? A. B." - 



230 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

I did not much wonder that Amanda should be somewhat 
uneasy lest our correspondence — the manner of which, to 
her frank, truthful nature, involved a certain amount of de- 
ception — should be discovered. I felt a slight twinge of 
conscience on perceiving that I was responsible for her dis- 
quiet, and confessed that her faith in me, as measured by 
her patience, must exceed mine in her. My love, certainly, 
did not need the nourishment of letters ; but silence was a 
pain, and I was much better constituted to enjoy than to 
endure. My answer was long and consolatory in its tone. 
I admitted my impatience, hinting, however, that I hoped 
the cause of it would soon terminate ; that I fully appre- 
ciated her position, so much more delicate and difficult than 
mine, and would release her from it as soon as the improve- 
ment in my fortunes would allow. Meanwhile, I said, she 
should only write when she felt assured that she ran no risk 
in so doing. It was no great magnanimity in me to grant 
this, under the circumstances, yet I involuntarily let it appear 
that I was making a sacrifice for her sake. She could not 
help feeling, I reasoned, that the balance of patience was 
now restored between us. 

At last the happy morning of my first holiday dawned. 
I was fully prepared for the journey, in order to take the 
ten o'clock train for Trenton. A small and elegant travel- 
ling valise, packed the night before, stood on the top of my 
honest old trunk, and its shining leather winked at me, with 
an expression of eagerness for its mission. Among the 
contents, I need not say, were several copies of " Leonora's 
Dream, and Other Poems," one of them bound in green 
morocco, with gilt edges. After I had arrayed myself in a 
new travelling-suit of light-brown, and carefully adjusted 
the bow of my cinnamon-colored cravat, I took a good look 
at my face in the little mirror, and commended what I saw. 
I can still remember, as if it were somebody else's face, the 
dark, earnest, innocent eyes, filled with such a joyous light ; 
the low brow and thick, wavy locks of hair ; the smooth 



J 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 231 

cheeks, already pale from my conjfined life, and the thin, 
sensitive lips, shaded by a silky moustache, which would be 
red, no matter how my hair had darkened. My features 
were not regular, and I never thought of making any claim 
to be called handsome ; but I was vain enough to imagine 
that there was something "interesting" in my face, and 
that I would not disappoint the expectations of my Amanda. 
My country awkwardness, at least, had disappeared, and the 
self-possessed air which had come in its stead enabled me 
to use, instead of obscure, my few physical advantages. 

My ride to Trenton was shortened by the active, excited 
imagination, which ran in advance and prefigured, in a 
thousand ways, the coming meeting. When I arrived I 
found that I was too late for the afternoon stage, and, on 
account of the distance across the country to Cardiff, would 
be obliged to wait until morning. This was a sore inter- 
ruption, but it came to end, and sunrise saw me once 
more looking on the green Pennsylvanian hills from the 
driver's box. I enjoyed the fresh summer glory of the 
country as never before ; success was behind me and love 
beckoned me on. Wliat wonder if the meadow-larks piped 
more sweetly than ever the nightingale in Cephissian thick- 
ets, or if the blue and green of sky and earth held each 
other in a lovelier harmony than that of which Herbert 
sang ? As we drove onward, the two hills which rise to 
the eastward of Cardiff lifted their round, leafy tops, afar 
off, over the rim of the horizon. I thought them the gates 
of Paradise. 

It was noon when the stage drew up beside the white 
porch of the well-known tavern, and the driver announced 
to the four inside passengers, " Fifteen minutes for din- 
ner!" His statement was noisily verified by a big bell, 
which issued from the central door, followed by the arm 
and then the body of the stout landlord, who looked at 
me doubtfully as I entered, but did not seem to recog- 
nize me. I was rather glad of this, as it proved that I had 



232 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

changed considerably in my appearance, and, I hoped, for 
the better. I was too hungry to slight the announcement 
of dinner, especially as I had determined on walking over 
to Upper Samaria, as on that well-remembered autumn 
day, a year and a half before. 

Taking the green morocco book from my valise, which I 
left in the landlord's charge, I set forth on my journey, in 
a timiult of delicious feelings. I know that I was frequently 
obliged to pause when my breath came short with the rapid 
beating of my heart. I anticipated and measured off the 
distance, and computed the time, saying to myself, " In an 
hour more — in fifty minutes — in three-quarters " — 

When I reached the top of the second hill from Cardiff, 
and looked across the hollow to the next rise, where the 
road skirts Hannaford's Woods, I saw a neat open wagon 
coming up towards me. The team had a familiar air, and 
I stopped and inspected it with some curiosity. I scarcely 
knew whether to be pleased or alarmed when , I recognized 
Squire Bratton and his wife. My first impulse, I fancy, was 
to leap over the fence and take a wide circuit across the 
fields to avoid them ; but then I reflected that they were 
probably going to Cardiff, leaving the coast clear for my 
interview with Amanda. It would be my duty to see them 
when they returned, and my reception then could not be 
prejudiced by greeting them now. I therefore resumed 
my walk, but more slowly, down the hill. 

As the wagon approached, I could see that Squire Brat- 
ton looked more than usually spruce and important. His 
hat was set well back upon his head, and the ends of his 
upright shirt-collar made two sharp white triangles upon 
the broad red plain of his cheeks. He snapped his whip- 
lash continually in the air, and the sound prevented me 
from hearing the remarks which, from the motion of his 
head and the movement of his mouth, he was evidently 
making to his wife. He did not seem to recognize me until 
we were but a few paces apart. 



J 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 233 

" Hallo ! Why, here 's Godfrey ! " he exclaimed, check- 
ing the horses. 

I approached the wheel, and shook hands with both. 

" Should hardly ha' known you, with that bit of squirrel's 
tail under your nose," said the Squire. " Coming over to 
see us all again ? That 's right." 

" Yes," I answered ; " I am on my way to Reading, and 
did not like to pass as near as Cardiff, without calling upon 
my friends in Upper Samaria. I hope you are all well." 

" First-rate, first-rate. I need n't ask you. You 've got 
into better business than school-teaching, I should reckon ? " 

I smiled in conscious triumph, as I replied, " Oh yes, 
much better in every way." 

" Glad to hear it. Well — we must push on. See you 
again to-night. You '11 find our house open, and somebody 
there you '11 like to see : ha, ha ! " 

With a chuckle of satisfaction and a pistol-volley from 
his whip, Squire Bratton drove away, leaving me in a state 
of profound astonishment. What did he mean ? Could it 
be that he had accidentally discovered, or that Amanda 
had confessed, the truth, and that he intended to give me 
a hint of his approbation ? It seemed almost too complete 
a joy to be real, and yet I could give his words no other 
interpretation. As for Mrs. Bratton, she had laughed and 
nodded her head, as much as to say, " Go on — it 's all 
right ! " The more incredible my fortune seemed, the more 
sure I felt that it must be true. An instant feeling of grat- 
itude and affection for the old couple sprang up in my 
heart. I turned about, as if to thank them on the spot for 
my perfect happiness, but their team had gone over the 
hill. Then I hastened forward, up the long rise, with feet 
that scarcely felt the road. 

Again the charming valley — how dear its every feature 
now ! — lay spread before me. There was Yule's Mill, and 
the glassy pond, and the chimneys of Bratton's house, ris- 
ing out of a boss of leaves ; and down the stream, over the 



234 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

twinkling lines of the willows, I could just see the ragged 
top of the old hemlock, sacred to the first confession and 
surrender of love. I never saw a lovelier, happier, more 
peaceful scene : I never expect to see its like again. 

Now my road led down between the sloping fields which 
caught the full warmth of the sun, and let their grain romp 
and roll in the sweet smnmer wind, until it bent to the 
level of the creek, around the knoll where I had sought for 
trailing arbutus, on that day whence my life as a man ought 
to be dated. I there determined to cross the stream above 
the pond, and make my way straight through the narrow 
field beyond, to Bratton's house. First Amanda, and the 
positive assurance of my bliss ! I said. 

Hot and panting with excitement and the rapidity of my 
motions, I gained the top of the knoll at last, but a stone's 
throw from the house. All was quiet around. The trees 
hid the windows, and even the front veranda, from the 
point where I stood, and I thought of the magic hedge 
around the palace of the Sleeping Beauty. The hundred 
years had passed, and I was the fortunate prince, come to 
waken my beloved with a kiss. I paused, and held back 
the joy at my lips, that I might the longer taste its perfect 
flavor. All at once I heard the voice of some one singing, 
— a voice moving along under the trees. It was she ! — 
I saw the rose-tint of her dress through the gaps in the 
shrubbery. I saw her glide along towards an open arbor 
of lattice-work, overgrown with clematis, which stood on 
the top of the lawn, a little to the left of the house. 

Now was my fortunate moment ! I sprang over the 
fence, crept down behind the clumps of lilac and roses, and 
reached the arbor as she was singing the line, '^ And I've 
seen an eye still hrighter" (How well I remember it.) 
Her back was towards me : she was looking out, over the 
railing, down the road to the mill. How lovely her slen- 
der figure, clad in pink lawn, showed in the green frame ! 
I could no longer contain myself, but cried out, in a voice 
which I vainly strove to soften to a whisper, — 



JOHN GODFREY'S lORTUNES. 235 

" Amanda ! Dear Amanda ! " 

She started, with a gasp, rather than a scream, of sur- 
prise. She turned and recognized me : a fiery blush ran 
over her face and neck, but instantly died away, leaving 
her very pale. Her eyes were fixed upon mine with an 
expression of alarm ; her lips moved a little, but she seemed 
unable to speak. 

" I did n't mean to frighten you so, Amanda," I said, — 
" but I am so glad, so happy ! " And I rushed forward, 
threw my arms around her waist, and bent down to give 
her the kiss for which I had hungered so long. 

But she screamed, covered her face with her hands, and 
twisted herself out of my embrace. " Leave me alone ! " 
she said, in a low, hard voice, as she escaped to the other 
side of the table, and stood there, pale, and trembling a 
little. 

" Don't be angry, darling ! " I pleaded. " Is n't 't true, 
then, that your father and mother know everything? I 
met them on the road, and they told me to come here at 
once — that you would be glad to see me. I thought they 
must know, you see, and that all our troubles were over, for 
I 'm free at last, — I am my own master, and now I can 
speak to your father. It will all come out right, and we 
will be rewarded for our patience." 

I gently approached her as I spoke these words. But 
she put out her hand to keep me away, and said, with her 
face turned from me, " You must not say such things to 
me, Mr. Godfrey." 

Something in the tone of her voice seemed to chill my 
very blood. I was so startled and astonished that the first 
thought which came into my head forced for itself a pas- 
sionate utterance. 

" Amanda ! " I cried, " tell me what all this means ! 
What have you heard ? Has anybody dared to slander me 
in my absence, and have you believed it ? " 

I had scarcely finished speaking before she sprang forth 
from the arbor, crying, " Charles ! Charles ! " 



236 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

I had not heard the approaching step on the lawn, but 
close at hand arose a familiar masculine voice, "Why, 
what 's the matter, dear ? " Looking out, I was petrified 
at beholding, three paces off, my Amanda (I still thought 
her mine) clinging to Charley Rand, who already had his 
arm about her waist. Nor did he relinquish his clasp when 
he lifted his head and saw me. 

" Godfrey ! " he exclaimed ; " where did you drop from, 
all at once ? " 

He stretched out his hand, as if expecting me to come 
forward and take it. I stood motionless, striving to realize 
the fact of this double treachery. My tongue clove to my 
jaws, and I was unable to articulate a word. 

" What has happened, Amanda ? " he asked. 

" Oh, Charles ! " she murmured, tenderly, with her head 
on his shoulder, " Mr. Godfrey has so frightened me." 

He laughed. " Never mind," he said ; " you seem to 
have frightened him quite as badly." 

Disengaging his arm, he now approached me. I invol- 
untarily retreated a step, and my voice returned to me. 

" Stand back, Rand ! " I cried. " What are you doing 
here ? Wliat right have you to hold Miss Bratton in your 
arms ? " 

" Come, now, that 's a good joke ! " said he, with an inso- 
lent air, — " Miss Bratton ? Mrs. Rand, you mean ! Mrs. 
Rand since two days. I thought, to be sure, you had come 
down on purpose to congratulate us." 

I could not yet believe it. " Amanda ! " I said, turning 
to her, and speaking with a voice which I hardly recognized 
as my own, " is it true ? Are you married to that man ? " 

She stood up and looked me full in the face. There was 
not a quiver of her eyelids, nor a shade of deeper color on 
her pale, quiet face. " Certainly," she said. 

" Geod God ! " I cried ; " you could break your faith with 
me, without a word! This is your truth! This is your 
patience ! You, whom I have so loved, for whose sake I 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 237 

have so labored ! Rand, did you know that she and I were 
engaged — that she had given her heart to me — that she 
has been mine, in the sight of God, for more than a year 
past?" 

I saw, while I was speaking, that his face was beginning 
to grow dark. Amanda must have noticed it also, and have 
instantly decided what com'se to take, for she confronted 
me without flinching, the settled calm of her face stiifening 
into a hard, cold, cruel mask, in which I saw her true 
nature expressed, — the mingled nature of the cat and the 
serpent, false, selfish, and venomous. 

" It is a lie ! " she exclaimed. " How dare you say such 
things ? I never was engaged to you — I never told you 
that I loved you ! " 

"Amanda!" was all I could utter. But the helpless 
appeal of love, the bitter reproach, the hot indignation of 
an honest heart, which together found expression in that 
one word, were shattered against the icy visage of her 
treachery. She turned to Rand, with a tender, frightened 
air, saying, " Charles, make him go away : he is certainly 
crazy ! " 

" Come," said he, " we Ve had quite enough of this, God- 
frey ! You were always a little vain, you know, and you 
must n't think that because a young lady behaves friendly, 
and admires your writings, and all that sort of thing, that 
she 's dead in love with you. I don't mind your prancing 
around in this way, so far as I 'm concerned, but I won't 
see my wife insulted." 

I could have borne anything better than his flippant, pat- 
ronizing tone ; but, indeed, my back was not then strong 
enough to bear another feather's-weight of burden. It was 
not merely that the cherished bliss of my life was dashed to 
pieces in a moment : I was outraged, humiliated, wounded 
at all points. My conflicting feelings, all surging towards 
the same centre, possessed me wholly, body and brain, and 
I can no longer disentangle them, ui memory. I was mad. 



238 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" Then see yourself insulted ! " I shouted. My muscles 
acted of themselves, with wonderful rajDidity. Eand re- 
ceived a blow in the face and tumbled over backwards 
upon the grass. His wife screamed and seemed to be 
making towards me, her quiet eyes lighted up horribly with 
a white, steely blaze. I remember turning away with a 
contemptuous laugh, stmnbling down the lawn like a drunk- 
en man, with a dizzy humming in my ears, and finding 
my way, somehow, to a lonely nook under the willows, a 
short distance below the mill. There I sat down, and after 
sharp, convulsive pangs, as on that night at school when 
Penrose soothed me, the storm broke into tears. I covered 
my face with my hands and wept long and passionately. It 
was impossible to think, or to call to my help the least of 
the consolations which afterwards came. I could feel noth- 
ing but the deadly hurt of the wound. 

All at once, as the violence of my passion was wearing 
itself out, I felt a hand gently pressing my shoulder. I 
need not have started, with a sudden, angry suspicion of 
further treachery : it was only Dan Yule. I took his hand, 
and tried to say something. 

He sat down beside me, and patted my leg, with a kind 
familiarity. " Don't mind me" said he : "I guess I know 
what 's the matter, havin' had a suspicion of it from the iirst. 
I seen what was goin' on over t' the Squire's, and had a 
good mind to ha' writ to you about it, — but, thinks I, it 
a'n't none o' my business, and like as not she 's told him 
herself, and so I 'd better keep clear. But I did n't like it 
none the more. I 'd just got in a big saw-log this after- 
noon, when I seen you comin' down from the Squire's, and 
turnin' into the willers — seemed like as if you didn't 
exackly know where you was goin'. So I set Jim to shut 
off the water when the saw got to t' other end, and sneaked 
across to see what had become o' you." 

Dan kept his eyes on the ground while he spoke, and 
mechanically went on patting my leg, as if both anxious to 



J 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 239 

comfort me in some way and fearful lest his presence was 
embarrassing. I said something at last about my disap- 
pointment being so unexpected — something which he in- 
terpreted as an apology for my weakness. 

" You need n't be ashamed on it," said he. " Lots o' fel- 
lows takes on that way, only a man does n't like to be seen. 
I s'pose people thinks it is n't jist manly, but there 's times 
when you can't help yourself. You don't mean that you 
had no idee she was married, till you come here and found 
it out?" 

I thereupon told Dan the whole story, and in telling it, I 
saw the trick which Amanda had played with me and with 
her own conscience. It was true that she had never said, 
either when I declared my love, or afterwards in her letters, 
in so many words, that she loved me : but this discovery only 
made the actual lie more enormous. There was conscious, 
cold-blooded deception ff om the beginning : I was bound, 
but not she. I suppose she must have liked me/ in her 
passive way ; or I may have been the first fish that came 
into her net. Whatever her motive was, in allowing me to 
believe my love returned, her selfish calculation in the. mat- 
ter, from beginning to end, was now apparent. When I 
came to the closing scene of the wretched history, Dan 
became a little excited. Instead of patting my leg, he 
gave it a spanking slap, and swore, in a general way, 
without launching his words at anybody in particular. The 
blow I had administered to Rand put him in a good humor 
again. 

" I dunno but I 'd ha' done it myself, in your place," he 
said. " Though it is n't likely that he was so much to blame, 
after all, if he did n't know nothin' about it before." 

The thought had not occurred to me. I immediately 
recognized its justice, and began to feel ashamed of myself. 

" Well, John," Dan continued, " I reckon, now, you '11 
come over and stay with us to-night. Miss Lavina 's back 
again this summer, and she has your room ; but Ike 's away, 



240 JOHN" GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 

and you can put up for the night with me. Miss Lavina, I 
need n't mind tellin' you, is likely to stay with us. Sue '11 be 
married after harvest, and I 've kind o' prevailed on Lavina 
to take her place." 

Dan looked so sheepish and happy that I understood 
him. I thanked him for all his past and present kindness, 
and congratulated him with fresh tears in my eyes, on the 
fortune which I never, never should know. I felt, never- 
theless, that it was impossible to accept his invitation, — im- 
possible for me, in my agitated state, to spend more time in 
UiDper Samaria than would be required to get over the bor- 
ders of the township. I told him this, and he seemed to 
understand it. He had lighted his pipe, and was leaning 
against one of the willows, comfortably smoking. As I 
arose from my seat on the log, some hard substance in my 
breast-pocket struck my arm. 

" Dan," I said, " have you a match ? " 
" Yes. Have you learned to smoke, at last ? " 
I said nothing, but took the match he offered, and the 
green morocco, gilt-edged copy of " Leonora's Dream," on 
the fly-leaf of which I had written a sonnet, — misery ! 
— a sonnet full of the truest and the tenderest love, to the 
wife of Charley Eand ! I doubled back the sumptuous cov- 
ers, and turned the leaves from me, that I might not see 
one word of that mockery, which I, poor fool ! had written 
with tears of joy diimning my eyes ; then, striking fire with 
the match, I held it to the book. 

" Gosh ! " exclaimed Dan ; "what 's that for ? " 
The flames soon devoured not only the manuscript but 
all the hundred and twenty pages of my immortal verse. 
Then I threw the glittering cover on the ground, and 
stamped On it with fiendish satisfaction. When it had been 
so bruised and disfigured that the title was illegible, I flung 
it down the bank into the stream. 

I watched it as it drifted slowly along, past rotting snag 
and slimy grass, past oozy banks, and flats of rank skunk- 



/ 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 24X 

cabbage, and felt that my own gilt-edged dreams were flung 
with It to as foul a fate. I had lost my love, and it left nl 
consecration behind, -nothing but shame, and bitterness 
of heart and contempt for what I had reverenced in myself 
as most holy! j^cix 



16 



242 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

RELATING HOW I CAME INTO POSSESSION OF MY INHEK- 
ITANCE. 

An hour before sunset I found myself again on the ridge 
overlooking the valley. I was weak and tired, and as I 
leaned upon the fence after climbing the long ascent, I was 
conscious of the dismal change which had come upon the 
beautiful world of three hours before. I saw the same 
woods and hills, but the foliage had become hard and. black, 
the fields dreary in their flat greenness, and the sky seemed 
to hold itself aloof in a cold divorce from the landscape to 
which it had so lately been softly wedded. Night, or storm, 
or winter, would have been less cheerless. An unutter- 
able sense of loneliness filled my heart. I was still young 
enough to suppose that all emotions were eternal smiply 
because they were emotions. I was sure that my love 
would never have faded or changed ; now it was violently 
torn from me, leaving a pang in its place, to inherit its own 
enduring life. The world could give nothing to compen- 
sate me for this loss. Better would it be if I could die, and 
so escape the endless procession of dark, blighted, hopeless 
days. Then I saw, for the first tune, and stood face to face 
with that Doubt which suspends us, trembling, over the 
abyss of nothingness. I asked that question which no hu- 
man mind dare long entertain, — that question, the breath 
of which crumbles Good and Evil, Tune, Faith, and Provi- 
dence, making of life a terror and a despair. The outer 
crust of thought, upon which I had lived, gave way, and I 
looked shudderingly down into central deeps of darkness 
and of fire. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FOETUNES. 243 

The struggle which my nature was undergoing will be 
better understood when its mixed character is considered. 
Either pure sorrow for a lost love, or vain yearning for a 
love which had been withheld, could have been compre- 
hended by the heart, and therefore so grasped as to be best 
borne ; but this — what was it ? A tumult of love and hate, 
— for the habit of a year could not be unlearned in a mo- 
ment, — ^ disappointed hope, betrayed faith, devotion igno- 
rantly given to heartless selfishness, a revelation of the 
baseness of human nature shed upon a boundless trust in 
its nobility ! It assailed all my forms of faith at once, de- 
priving me not only of love, but of the supports which 
might have helped me to bear its loss. / 

I knew that she, henceforth, would hate me. Even if 
some rudimentary hint of a conscience existed in her na- 
ture, and the remembrance of her deception were able to 
give it an occasional uneasiness, the blow I inflicted on her 
husband, before her eyes, more than cancelled the wrong. 
She would now justify herself to herself, as fully as to him. 
If the story were ever disclosed, both, of course, would be 
considered the aggrieved parties in the eyes of the world, 
and I the vain, adventurous miscreant. 

I walked slowly and wearily back to Cardiff, keeping a 
good lookout for the vehicle of the elder Brattons, which I 
discerned far enough in advance to avoid successfully. The 
landlord by this tune had found out who I was, and tor- 
tured me with stories about the marriage, which I had not 
tact enough to escape. It appeared, from what he said, 
that Squire Bratton, Mulford, and Rand's father, with some 
others, were concerned in a speculation for buying coal- 
lands, the profits whereupon were to be realized when a cer- 
tain projected railroad had been built. Rand himself was 
believed to have a minor share in the enterprise ; he was 
reckoned to be "a mighty smart business-man," and the 
Squire took to him from the start. He had frequently come 
down from Reading during the previous winter, but the 



244 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

match had not been talked about until a few weeks before 
it took place. They were going to Reading to live, the 
landlord said, and the old folks were quite set up about it. 

I gave a melancholy groan of relief, when I at last found 
myself in bed, and surrounded by congenial darkness. I 
tried to compose my thoughts to my accustomed prayer, 
but the spectre I had invoked showed a blank where I 
had once seen the face of God. Men were nothing but 
accidental combinations of atoms, it said ; Life was a tem- 
porary condition, and joy, sorrow, duty, love, were things 
of education, unreal and perishable ; there was neither Vir- 
tue nor Yice but in imagination, — neither happiness nor 
misery, nor anything positive but physical sensation — and 
that only while it lasted. So far from shrinking fi'om these 
suggestions, I took a fearful pleasm-e in following them to 
their common termination, on the brink of that gulf where 
all sentient existence melts into nothing, as smoke into air. 

The next day I took the stage to Reading, performing 
the journey in the same hardened, apathetic mood. There 
was even, at times, a grim satisfaction in the thought that I 
was now free from every emotion which could attach me to 
my fellow-beings, — free from the duties of blood, the ten- 
der allegiance of love, the services of friendship. I saw 
nothing but selfishness in the world ; I would be selfish too. 

Reaching Reading in the evening, I took up my quarters 
at the " Mansion House." I was in no mood to claim my 
uncle's hospitality, although the grievance I had borne 
against him now seemed a very insignificant thing. I was 
neither afraid of him nor his efforts to procure me " a 
change of heart." Nearly two years had elapsed since that 
episode of my life, and I was beginning to see how much I 
had exaggerated its character. I had no dread of the 
approaching interview. Indeed, I so far relented towards 
Aunt Peggy as to take a copy of my volume for presenta- 
tion to her. 

When I went down Penn Street after breakfast, the next 



JOHN^ GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 245 

morning, to the well-known corner, I saw that a change — 
which, nevertheless, did not surprise me — had occurred in 
the establishment. The old, weather-beaten sign had dis- 
appeared, and in its place was a new one, white ground and 
black letters, shaded with blue : " Woollet and Himpel's 
Grocery Store." Bolty was not so stupid as his heavy- 
face and sleepy eyes proclaimed. He had already made 
his nest, and would not be long in feathering it comfort- 
ably. 

There he was, behind the counter, a little more brisk in 
his movements than formerly, and with every bit of his 
familiar loquacity. He was a trifle taller, and his white hair 
was brushed straight up from his forehead instead of being 
cut short. His thick, pale lips hung half-open, as usual, and 
his eyes expressed the same lazy innocence, but I fancied I 
could see the commencement of a cunning wrinkle at their 
corners. He wore a short jacket of grass-cloth, buttoned 
in front, which arrangement I admired, for I knew that the 
bosom of his shirt was not wont to be in a presentable con- 
dition. 

As I appeared at the door, he recognized me at once. 
Catch him, indeed, forgetting any face he had ever known ! 
I suspect he still retained a sort of phlegmatic liking for 
me, or at least was now satisfied that I could no longer 
interfere with his plans, for he slipped along the counter 
towards me with every appearance of cordiality, stretch- 
ing out his fat hand as he cried, " Why, John Godfrey ! Is 
that you now ? ~ And you 've come back to see us, after so 
long ! I declare I did n't know what had become o' you ; 
— but you 're lookin' well — wery well — better as ever I 
see you. — Yes, ma'am ! The ' Peruvian Preventative,' did 
you say ? You could n't take nothin' better ; we sells cart- 
loads o' boxes — cart-loads, and the more people use 'em 
the more they wants 'em ! " 

He was off and waiting upon the customer, — a woman 
from the country, with very few front teeth and a sun-bon- 



246 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

net, — before I could say a word. I was so amused at this 
exhibition of his old habits, that, for the first time in two 
days, I felt the sensation of laughter creeping back to its 
accustomed nook. Presently the woman left, and, the store 
being now empty, Bolty returned to me. 

" You was a little surprised, was n't you ? " he asked, " to 
see my name over the door. It 's been up sence Easter, 
and we 're doin' wery well — wery well, indeed. 'T a'n't 
much of an int'rest I 've got, though, — only a quarter, but 
it 's a good beginnin'. The customers knows me, you see, 
and they stick to me. Mr. Woolley 's got a good deal of 
other business on his hands now." 

"Yes," said I, "I have heard of it." 

" Coal-lands ? Yes ; you 've heerd right. Not that I 
know much about it. He 's awful cloi^e, Mr. Woolley is, — 
keeps his own counsel, as he says, and Mulford and Rand's 
too, I guess. But what have you a-been carryin' on ? You 
look mighty smart, so I guess it ha'n't been a bad spec." 

I told Bolty as much in reference to my position in New 
York as I thought proper, and then asked for my uncle. 

" He 's gone down to the canawl," said Bolty ; " but he '11 
be back as soon as the Banks is open." 

"Then I '11 go in an:l see Aunt Peggy." 

I entered the little back-parlor. The sofa and chairs 
were more shiny and slippery than ever, and a jagged abat- 
tis of horse-hair was beginning to project from the edges 
of the seats. There was no improvement in the atmos- 
phere of the room since I had left ; — nothing had been 
taken away, and nothing added except a mezzotint of the 
Rev. Mr. Mellowby, in a flat mahogany frame. My aunt 
was not there, but I heard noises in the kitchen, and went 
thither without further ceremony. 

Aunt Peggy was bending over the stove, with a handker- 
chief around her head, an old calico apron over her dress, 
a pot-lid in one hand and a pewter spoon in the other. 

"Well, Aunt Peggy," said I, "how do you do by this 
time?" 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 247 

She was very much surprised, of course ; but she trans- 
ferred the spoon to the hand which held the pot-lid, and 
greeted me with a mixture of embarrassment and affection. 
A few tears certainly dropped from her eyes, but I knew 
how easily they came, and did not feel encouraged to make 
any great show of emotion. 

" I 'm glad you 've come to see us, John," she said, in her 
most melancholy tone. " Walk into the settin'-room. I 'd 
like to hear that you don't bear malice against your rela- 
tions, that meant to do for your good. It seemed hard, 
goin' away the way you did." 

" Oh, Aunt Peggy, let bygones be bygones. I dare say 
you meant to do right, but it has turned out best as it is." 

" I had mournin' enough," she said, " that things could n't 
have gone as me and your uncle wanted; but I s'pose 
we 've all got to have our trials and tribulations." 

That was all we said about the matter. I was well 
dressed, and gave a most favorable account of my worldly 
prospects, and my aunt seemed considerably cheered and 
relieved. I suspect that her conscience had been tormented 
by the fear of her sister's son becoming a castaway, and that 
she had therefore been troubled with doubts in regard to 
the circumstances which drove me from her roof. My suc- 
cess removed that trouble, at least. Then I presented the 
book, in which I had turned down leaves to mark a few 
poems of a religious character, which I thought she might 
read with some satisfaction. Such things as " The Lament 
of Hero," I knew, would be quite unintelligible to her. She 
was greatly delighted with the present, promising to show 
it to Mr. Cutler, the new minister. 

We were getting on very pleasantly together, when my 
uncle entered from the shop. As Bolty had apprised him 
of my arrival, his face expressed more curiosity than sur- 
prise. His greeting was cordial, but its cordiality did not 
strike me as beiiig entirely natural. His hair had grown 
grayer, but there was no shade of difference in the var- 



248 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

nished cheeks and the large tight mouth. Intercourse with 
his new associates had already given him a more worldly- 
air. It was certain that neither his unworthiness nor his 
fortunate assurance of " grace " occupied his thoughts so 
much as formerly. Considering what had passed between 
us, I felt more at ease in his presence than I had antici- 
pated. 

" You look very well, John," said he. " I hope you have 
been at least successful in temporal things." 

He could not deny himself this insinuation, but I was no 
longer sensitive on the point, and did not notice it. Of 
course, I represented my affairs to him in the most pros- 
perous light, setting forth my promising chances for the 
future, while feeling in my heart their utter hoUowness and 
vanity. 

" Well, you 're settled at a business that seems to suit 
you," he said. " That 's a good thing. You Ve gone your 
way and I 've gone mine, but there need not be any diffi- 
culty between us." 

" No, Uncle Amos," I replied. " I have learned to take 
care of myself. The principal object of my visit is to re7 
lieve you from all further trouble on my account." 

" In what way ? " he asked. 

" Why," I exclaimed, a little astonished, " don't you know 
that I am twenty-one ? " 

" Twent}^-one ! Oh — ah ! Yes, I see. Are you sure 
of it ? I did not think it was so soon." 

Somehow, his words made an unpleasant impression upon 
me. I soon convinced him, by the mention of certain dates, 
that I knew my own age, and then added, " I am now en- 
titled to my money, you know. If you put out last year's 
interest, there must have been more than eighteen hundred 
dollars due to me on the first of April." 

"Yes," said he, "of course I put it out. But I really 
did n't suppose you would want the capital art once. I did n't 
— hm, well — make arrangements to have it ready at a 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 249 

moment's warning. You see, John, you should have noti- 
fied me in the proper way beforehand. This, I may say, 
is not notifying me at all. Besides, why should you want 
the money now ? What will you do with it ? You surely 
would n't think of speculating in the stock-market ; that 'd 
be throwing it to the four winds. If you put it in the sav- 
ings-bank, you '11 only get five per cent, instead of six, as 
you get now. Wliy not let it be where it is ? Use the 
interest if you want: I might advance you this year's, 
though it 's put out too, — but when you 've got your cap- 
ital safe, keep it so." 

" I wish to have my own money in my own hands," I 
answered, rather coldly. " I never supposed a notification 
would be necessary, as you knew I was entitled to receive 
the money as soon as I came of age. I consider myself 
capable of taking care of it, and even if I should lose it, 
that is altogether my own business." 

" Oh, no doubt, no doubt," said my uncle. He rubbed 
his shiny cheek and stretched out his lower ja-^, as if per- 
plexed. " You are entitled to the money, that is all right 
enough, but — but it's still out, and I don't see how I 
could get it, just now." 

" At any rate, you can transfer the bond — or whatever 
it is — to me. That will be equivalent to the money, for 
the present." 

Uncle Amos grew very red in the face, and was silent 
for a few minutes. His arm-chair seemed to be an uneasy 
seat. He looked at me once, but instantly turned his eyes 
away on encountering mine. At last he said, " I can't 
well do that, John, because it a'n't invested separately — 
it 's along with a good deal of my own. You see, it 's this 
way, — I '11 tell you all about it, and then I think you '11 be 
satisfied to leave things as they are. I 've gone into an 
operation with some other gentlemen, — we keep rather 
dark about it, and I don't want you to say anything, — and 
we 've bought up a big tract of land in Monroe County, 



25Q JOHN GODFREY'S FORTU*^ES. 

among the mountains, where there 's sure to be coal. It 
a'n't worth much now, but when the railroad is opened, 
there 's no telling what we may n't sell out for. The road 's 
pretty sure to be put through in a year or two, and then 
the loss of interest in the mean time will be nothing in 
comparison to the profit we shall make by the operation. 
There are ten thousand acres in all, and I was put down 
for one thousand ; but there were other expenses, surveyors, 
and we had to pay a geologist a big price to take a quiet 
look at the place ; so I had n't enough of my own, without 
putting yours with it. I intend you shall go share and 
share with me in the jDrofits. You may get six hundred, 
or six thousand per cent, instead of six. Don't you see 
how much better that will be for you ? " 

" No, I don't ! " I cried. I was again thunderstruck, and 
the bitter tmnult of my feelings began to rage anew. " I 
see only this, that you had no right to touch a cent of my 
money. It was put in your charge by my poor mother, to 
be returned to me when it should become due, not to be 
risked in some mad speculation of yours, about which I 
know nothing except that one infernal scoundrel at least 
is engaged «in it ! You to warn me against risking it in 
stocks, indeed ! If you meant me to go share and share 
with you, why did you ask me to be satisfied with six per 
cent.?" 

My uncle's eyes fell at these words. I saw my advan- 
tage, and felt a wicked delight in thus holding him at my 
mercy. His face looked clammy, and his chin dropped, 
giving a peculiarly cowed, helpless expression to his mouth. 
When he spoke, there was a tone in his voice which I 
had never before heard. 

" I know, John," he said, " that you don't like me overly, 
and perhaps you won't believe what I say ; but, indeed, I 
did mean to share the profits with you. I thought, only, 
if you 'd leave the money in my hands, I would n't say any- 
thing about the operation yet awhile. It's done now, and 
can't be helped." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 251 

" Wliy not ? " I asked. " You can borrow the money, on 
your liouse and store. Give me what belongs to me, and 
you may keep ail the profits of your ' operation,' — if you 
ever get any ! " 

He looked around with an alarmed air, carefully closed 
the kitchen-door, and then, resuming his seat, bent forward 
and whispered, " I had to do that, as it was. I raised all 
I could — all the property would bear. It was 'most too 
much for me, and I could n't have turned the corner if I 
had n't sold out a quarter interest in the grocery to Bolty. 
r wish you could understand it as I do, — you 'd see that 
it 's a sure thing, perfectly sure." 

It was enough for me that Bratton, Mulford, and the 
Rands were concerned in the business. That fact stamped 
it, in my mind, as a cheat and a swindle, and my uncle, it 
seemed, was no better than the others. I was fast harden- 
ing into an utter disbelief in human honesty. It was not 
so much the loss of the money which I felt, though even 
that had a sanctity about it as the double bequest of my 
dead father and mother, which I had hoped would bring 
me a blessing with its use. I had learned to earn my 
living, and knew that I should not suffer; but I was 
again the dupe of imposition, the innocent victim of out- 
rage. 

I was conscious of a strong bodily chill : the teeth chat- 
tered in my head. I rose from my seat, turned to him for 
the last time, and said, "Amos Woolley, you know that 
you have acted dishonestly, — that you have broken your 
trust, both to my mother and me. I thought once that 
you were trying sincerely to serve God in your own blind, 
bigoted way ; but now I see that Mammon is your master. 
Get you a change of heart before you preach it to others. 
I will not prosecute and 'ruin you, by showing to the world 
your true character, though you seem to have cared little 
whether or not I was ruined by your act. If you should 
ever repent and become honest, you will restore me my 



252 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

inheritance ; but, until you do it, I shall not call you ' uncle,' 
I shall not take your hand, I shall not enter your door ! " 

His chin dropped lower, and his eyes were fixed on me 
with a reproachful expression, as he listened to my sharp 
words. I put on my hat and turned towards the door. 
" John ! " he cried, " you are wrong — you will one day be 
sorry for what you have said." 

Aunt Peggy at that moment entered from the kitchen. 
" You 're not goin' away, John ? " she said ; " you '11 come 
back to dinner at twelve ? " 

" No, aunt," I answered ; " I shall probably never come 
back again to see you. Good-bye ! " And I picked up her 
hanging hand. 

" What ails you ? What has happened ? " 

" Ask your husband." 

I went into the store, closing the door behind me. When 
I saw Bolty's face I felt sure that he had been eavesdrop- 
ping. He did not seem surprised that I was going away, 
and I fancied there was something constrained and artifi- 
cial in his parting, " Come back right soon, and see us 
again ! " Perhaps I wronged him, but I was not in a 
mood to put the best construction upon anybody's acts or 
words. 

I walked up Penn Street at a rapid rate, looking neither 
to the right nor left, and found myself, before I knew it, 
high up on the side of Penn's Mount, beyond and above 
the city. The walk had chased away the chill and stag- 
nation /of my blood. I was flushed and panting, and choos- 
ing a shady bank, I sat down and looked once more upon 
the broad, magnificent landscape. I was glad that my 
brain, at last, had become weary of thought — that I could 
behold the sparkle of the river and the vanishing blue of 
the mountains with no more touch of sentiment or feeling 
than the ox grazing beside me. I accepted my fortune 
with an apathy which, it seemed, nothing could ever break. 
If I could but live thus, I said, seeing men as so many 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 253 

black mites in the streets of yonder city, hearing only a 
confused huni of life, in which the individual voice of every 
passion is lost, and be content myself with the simple 
knowledge of my existence and the sensations which be- 
long to it, I might still experience a certain amount of 
happiness. 



254 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER XX. 

IN WHICH I DINE WITH MR. CLARENDON AND MAKE THE 
ACQUAINTANCE OF MR. BRANDAGEE. 

I WAS back again at my post before my stipulated leave 
of absence had expired. Mr. Clarendon was evidently sur- 
prised, but not disagreeably so, at my unexpected return, 
and, when I reported myself to him in his private office, 
asked me to take a seat, — a thing he had never done since 
my first interview. Beyond an occasional scolding, varied 
by a brief word of commendation, my intercourse with him 
had been very limited, but I had acquired a profound re- 
spect both for his character and his judgment. 

After I was seated, he laid down his pen, pushed the long 
slips of paper to one side, and looked at me across the 
table. 

" How old are you, Godfrey ? " he asked, after a pause. 

" Just twenty-one." 

" So much the better. You have plenty of time yet to 
find out what you can do best. Or are you like most young 
men who can write a little, and suppose that you are capa- 
ble of everything ? " 

" I never supposed that," I protested. 

'' I have looked through your book," he continued. [I 
had presented him with a copy soon after its publication.] 
" It is about like nine-tenths of the poetry that is published 
nowadays, — a good deal of genuine feeling and sentiment, 
but no art. Judging by the degree of literary cultivation 
in the public, — which I have had a fair opportunity of 
learning, — I should think it would be generally liked. But 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTU:srES. 255 

I don't want you to be misled by this fact. You have a 
ready pen ; your talents are quick and flexible, and, with 
proper schooling, you may become a useful and successful 
newspaper writer. But I don't think you will ever achieve 
distinction as a poet. Are you not very fond of reading 
Moore, Scott, and Mrs. Hemans ? " 

I assented, with a mixture of surprise and embarrass- 
ment. Mr. Clarendon's unfavorable opinion, however, af- 
fected me much less than it would have done a fortnight 
sooner. 

" Let me advise you," he said, " to drop those authors for 
a while, and careMly read Wordsworth. I would not ^sk 
you to cease writing, for I know the request would be use- 
less ; and, except in the way of fostering a mistaken am- 
bition, it can do you no harm. Your prose style will be 
none the worse from the greater compactness of thought 
and the richer vocabulary which poetry gives. Only," he 
added, with a smile, " pray keep the two in separate boxes. 
It is a great mistake to mix them as some writers do." 

I assured Mr. Clarendon that I was by no means certain 
of my vocation ; that the volume was an experiment, which 
seemed to me to be tolerably successful, but I did not sup- 
pose it finally settled the question. I was greatly obliged 
for his good opinion of nay talents, and would read Words- 
worth as he recommended. I was then about to withdraw 
from the room, but he detained me a moment longer. 

" I am going to propose a change in your duties," he said. 
" You are now familiar with the composition of a newspaper, 
and can do better service, I think, in the City Department. 
It is not so mechanical as your former work, — requires 
quickness, correctness, and a sprightly style. You will be 
much out-of-doors, of course, and you may find it a little 
harassing at the start. But there will be an increase of 
salary, and you must expect to earn it." 

I willingly accepted the proposal, for, to be candid, I was 
getting tired of the monotony of " condensing the miscella- 



256 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

neous." The increase of my salary to fifteen dollars a week 
was also welcome. My satisfaction in saving a portion 
of my earnings was gone, but a gloomier motive supplied 
its place. It was well to be independent of the selfish race 
of men, — to work out the proud and contempt '^i us liberty, 
which I proposed to myself as my sole future aim. 

Mrs. Very welcomed me back with the empressement due 
to a member of her domestic circle. Mr. Mortimer shook 
hands with me as we went down to dinner, with an air which 
said, " I admit your equality ; " and Mrs. Mortimer bent her 
neck some three quarters of an inch more than usual, as 
she allowed her tightly gloved hand to rest for a second in 
mine. Miss Dunlap being absent on a visit to her friends 
in the country, my seat fell next to Miss Tatting, who made 
loud and particular inquiries as to how I found my rela- 
tives, and was it a nice part of the country, and which way 
do you go to get there, and did the ladies come to New 
York to buy their trimmings, — all of which I could have 
well spared. Swansford, I could see, was truly happy to 
have me again as his vis-a-vis, and in spite of my determi- 
nation to trust no human being, I could not help acknowl- 
edging that he really seemed to think hunself my friend. 
When we had talked for an hour or two, in the attic, I was 
almost sure that he was, and that I was his. The numb, 
steady ache of my wounds was beginning to tire me ; I 
longed to cry out, even though I were heard. 

It was a still, sultry evening. We sat together at the 
window until the stars came out, and looked down on the 
felt partitions between the back-yards, and the mosquitoes 
began to rise from a neighboring rain-water cistern. Swans- 
ford had played to me his last composition, — something in 
the minor key, as usual, — and I felt the hardness and cold-' 
ness of my mood give way. 

" Come, old fellow," I said, " I am five dollars a week 
richer than I was. Let us go out and baptize the circum- 
stance." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 257 

He was quite ready to join me. He had a pinched and 
hungry look ; Mrs. Yery's provender was not adapted to 
his delicate taste, and there were days when he scarcely ate 
enough to support life. We walked up the Bowery, arm 
in arm, crossed through Grand Street to Broadway, and 
finally descended into a glittering cellar under the Metro- 
politan Hotel. I had resolved to be as splendid as pos- 
sible. It was not long before we were installed in a little 
room, as white and bright as paint and gas could make it, 
with dishes of soft-shell crabs and lettuce before us, and a 
bottle of champagne, in ice, on the floor. 

I had a presentiment that I should tell Swansford every- 
thing, and I did. But it was not until the crabs and lettuce 
had disappeared, and an additional half-bottle found its way 
to the cooler. I had no fault to find with his sympathy. 
He echoed my bitterest denunciations of the treachery and 
selfishness of men, but would not quite admit the utter 
falsehood of women, nor, moreover, my claim to be con- 
sidered the most wronoed of hiunan beings. 

" What can be worse ? " I cried, quite reckless whether 
or not my voice was heard in the neighboring stalls. " Can 
you tell me of any harder blow than that ? I don't believe 
it!" 

There were tears of outraged love in my eyes, and his 
seemed to be filling too. He shook his head mournfully, 
and said, " Yes, Godfrey, there is a worse fate than -yours. 
Your contempt for her will soon heal your love : but think, 
now, if she were true, if she were all of womanly purity and 
sweetness that you ever dreamed her to be, if you knew that 
she could never love but yourself, — and then, if she were 
forced by her heartless family to marry another ! Think 
what it would be to know her, day and night, given to hi7n, 
— to still believe that her heart turned to you as yours to 
her, — to add endless pity and endless agony to the yearn- 
ing of love ! " 

His hands were tightly clasped on the table before him, 
17 



258 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

and the tears were running down his thin cheeks as he 
spoke. I knew his story now, and my pity for his suffer- 
ings beguiled me into semi-forgetfulness of my own. I was 
unable to speak, but stretched out my hand and grasped 
his. Our palms met in a close, convulsive pressure, and 
we knew that we were thenceforth friends. 

The next day I was both surprised and flattered on 
receiving an invitation to dine with Mr. Clarendon. Mr. 
Severn, who shared the honor, stated to me confidentially, 
" He would n't have done it, if he did n't look upon you as 
one of our stock workers." It was one of his Wonder din- 
ners, as they were called, embracing only gentlemen con- 
nected in some way with the paper. He was in the habit 
of giving three or four every year, — a large anniversary 
dinner in the winter, and smaller ones at intervals of three 
months. Mr. Horrocks, the chief editor of the Avenger, 
gave similar entertainments to his subordinates, and there 
was a standing dispute between them and us of the Wonder 
as to which gentleman had the honor of originating the 
custom. 

I dressed myself in my best to do fitting honor to the 
occasion, and punctually as the clock struck six rang the 
bell of Mr. Clarendon's door, on Washington Square. A 
mulatto gentleman, with' a dress-coat rather finer than my 
own, ushered me into the drawing-room, which was empty. 
Mr. Clarendon, however, immediately made his appearance 
and received me with great heartiness of manner. He had 
entirely put off his official fixity of face and abruptness of 
speech, and I hardly knew hun in his new character of the 
amiable, genial host. 

" We shall have but few guests to-day," he said, " as my 
family leaves for Newport next week. Mrs. Clarendon and 
my niece will join us at dinner, and there will be another 
young lady, I believe. Mr. Brandagee and yourself are 
the only bachelors, and I must look to you to entertain 
them." 



JOHN" GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 259 

He smiled as he said this, and I felt that I ought to smile 
and say something polite in return; but the effort, I am 
afraid, must have resulted in a dismal grin. I was not in a 
condition to sit down and entertain a young lady with flip- 
pant and elegant nothings. However, there was already a 
rustling at the other end of the room, and three ladies 
advanced towards us. First, Mrs. Clarendon, a ripe, buxom 
blond of forty, in dark-blue silk, — altogether a cheery 
apparition. Then the niece. Miss Weldon, tall, slender, 
with a long face, high forehead, black eyes, and smooth, 
dark hair. She had the air of a daughter, which I presume 
she was, by adoption. Mr. Clarendon had but one child, 
a son, who was then at Harvard. Miss Weldon's friend, as 
I judged her to be, was a Miss Haworth (I think that was 
the name — I know it reminded me of Mary Chaworth), a 
quiet creature, with violet eyes, and light hair, rippled on 
the temples. Her face seemed singularly famihar to me, 
and yet I knew I had never seen her before. I mutely 
bowed to both the young ladies, and then turned to answer 
a remark of Mrs. Clarendon, inwardly rejoicing that she 
had saved me from them. 

Mr. Severn presently entered, carrying his unhappy face 
even to the festive board. He had the air of being, as he 
perhaps was, permanently overworked, and was afflicted 
with the habit, which he exercised unconsciously, of fre- 
quently putting his hand on his side and heaving a deep 
sigh. Yet he was a shrewd, intelligent fellow, and, although 
usually a languid, hesitating talker, there were accidental 
moments when he flashed into respectable brilliancy. After 
the greetings were over, I was glad to see that he addressed 
himself to the niece, leaving Mrs. Clarendon to me. 

It was a quarter past six, and Mr. Clarendon began to 
show signs of impatience. " Withering stays," said he to 
his wife ; " as for Brandagee, I should not much wonder if 
he had forgotten all about it. He seems to have the run 
of a great many houses." 



260 JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 

A violent ringing of the bell followed his words, and the 
two delinquents entered together. I already knew Mr. 
Withering, and felt grateful to hiin for his kindly notice of 
my volume, but he was not otherwise attractive to me. He 
was a man of thirty-six, with a prematurely dry, solemn air. 
He wore a full, dark^brown beard, and his thick hair was 
parted in the middle, so as to hide two curious knobs on his 
temples. I used to wonder what Miss Hitchcock would 
predict from those organs: I was sure there were no 
bumps of the kind on my own skull. Perhaps they repre- 
sented the critical faculty, for Mr. Withering never wrote 
anything but notices of books. He read all the English 
reviews, and was quite a cyclopaedia of certain kinds of 
information ; but, somehow, a book, in passing through his 
alembic, seemed to exhale its finer aroma, to part with its 
succulent juices, and become more or less mummified. 
Names, at the sound of which I felt inclined to bow the 
knee, rattled from his tongue as dryly as salts and acids 
from a chemist's, and I never conversed with him without 
feeling that my imaginative barometer had fallen several 
degrees. 

Mr. Brandagee was barely known to me by name. He 
was the author of several dashing musical articles, which 
had been published in the Wonder, during the opera season, 
and had created a temporary sensation. Since then he had 
assailed Mr. Bellows, the great tragedian, in several sketch- 
es characterized rather by wit and impertinence than pro- 
found dramatic criticism : but everybody read and enjoyed 
them none the less. He iwas said to be the scion of a rich 
and aristocratic family in New-Haven, had passed through 
college with high honors, and afterwards spent several 
years and a moderate fortune in rambling all over Europe 
and the East. He had now adopted journalism, it was 
reported, as an easy mode of making his tastes and his 
talents support him in such splendor as was still possible. 

He made his salutations with a jolly self-possession — a 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 261 

noisy, flashy glitter of sentences — which quite threw the 
rest of us into the shade. The ladies, I saw, were specially 
interested in making his acquaintance. When dinner was 
announced, he carried off Mrs. Clarendon, without waiting 
for the host's beckon or looking behind him. Mr. With- 
ering followed with Miss Weldon, and then Mr. Clarendon 
offered his arm to Miss Haworth. Severn, pressing his 
side, and heaving profound sighs, brought up the rear with 
me. I hastened to take the unoccupied seat at Mrs. Clar- 
endon's left hand, though it did not properly belong to me. 
The lady was too well-bred even to look her dissatisfaction, 
and Mr. Withering was thus interposed between me and 
the niece. 

My share of the entertainment was easily performed. 
Mr. Brandagee, on the ojDposite side, monopolized the con- 
versation from the start, and I had nothing to do but look 
and listen, in the intervals of the dinner. The man's face 
interested me profoundly. It was not handsome, it could 
hardly be called intellectual, it was very irregular : I could 
almost say that it was disagreeable, and yet, it was so 
mobile, it ran so rapidly through striking contrasts of 
expression, and was so informed with a restless, dazzling 
life, that I could not turn my eyes away from it. His fore- 
head was sloping, narrowing rapidly from the temples down 
to the brows, his eyes dark-gray and deeply set, and his 
nose very long and straight, the nostrils cut back sharply 
on either side, like the barbs of an arrow. His upper lip 
was very short, and broken in from the line of his profile, 
as if he had been kicked there by a horse when a child. 
It was covered with a moustache no thicker than an eye- 
brow, — short, stubby hairs, that seemed to resist growth, 
and resembled, at a little distance, a coarse black powder. 
The under lip and chin, on the contrary, projected consid- 
erably, and the latter feature terminated in a goat-like tuft 
of hair. His cheeks were almost bare ^f beard. When 
he spoke slowly, his voice seemed to catch somewhere in 



262 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

the upper jaw and be diverted through his nose, but as he 
became lively and spirited in conversation, it grew clear 
and shrill. It was not an agreeable voice : the deep, mel- 
low chest-notes were wanting. 

The impression he made upon me was just the reverse 
of what I had felt on first meeting Penrose. The latter re- 
pelled me, in spite of the strong attraction of his beauty ; 
but Mr. Brandagee repelled me in every feature, yet at the 
same time drew me towards him with a singular fascination. 
His language was bold, brilliant, full of startling paradoxes 
and unexpected grotesquenesses of fancy ; withal, he was 
so agile and adroit of fence that it was almost impossible 
to pin him except by weapons similar to his own. It 
seemed to me that Mr. Clarendon at once admired and 
disliked him. The ladies, however, were evidently capti- 
vated by his brilliancy, and helped him to monopolize the 
attention of the table. 

He had just completed a very witty and amusing de- 
scription of Alexandre Dumas, and there was a lull in the 
talk, while a wonderful mayonnaise was brought upon the 
table, when Miss Weldon, bending around Mr. Withering, 
addressed him with, — 

" Oh, Mr. Brandagee, did you ever hear Rubini ? " 

" I did,'' said he. " Not on the stage. I 'm hardly old 
enough for that, if you please. But when I was living in 
Turin, I called one evening on my old friend, Silvio Pel- 
lico, and found him dressed to go out. Now I knew that 
he lived like a hermit, — I had never seen him before in 
swallow-tails, — so I started *back and said, ' cos' e ? ' 'To 
Count Arrivam ale's,' says he, ' and only for Rubini's sake.' 
' Will Rubini be there ? ' I yelled ; ' hold on a minute ! ' I 
took the first fiacre I could find, gave the fellow five lire 
extra, galloped home and jumped into my conventionalities, 
snatched up Silvio, and off we drove to Arrivamale's to- 
gether. True enough, Rubini was there, old and well pre- 
served, but he sang — and I heard him ! " 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 263 

" What did you think of his singing ? " asked the de- 
lighted Miss Weldon. 

"All Jioriture. The voice was in rags and tatters, but 
the method was there. You know how Benedetti sings the 
Jinale of Lucia ? — lifting up his fists and carrying the sos- 
tenuto the whole breadth of the stage ; — well, Rubini 
would have kept it dancing up and down, and whirling 
round and round, like a juggler with four brass balls in the 
air. That was what he sang, and I shall never forget the 
heir alma innamora-ha-ha-hoo-hoo-hoo-lioo-ah-ha-lia-ta I " 

There was a general shout of laughter at this burlesque 
imitation of poor Rubini, which Mr. Brandagee gave in a 
cracked falsetto. There seemed to be no end to his accom- 
plishments. After taking a fork-full of the mayonnaise, he 
turned to Mrs. Clarendon with an enthusiastic face, ex- 
claiming, " Admirable ! I congratulate you on your cook ; 
or is Mr. Clarendon himself the author ? It is a part of 
my credo, that the composition of a salad requires a high 
order of intellect, as well as character, tact, and the instincts 
of a gentleman. Horace, Cervantes, and Shakspeare would 
have been good hands at it ; St. Paul would have done it 
splendidly ! " 

In spite of what had gone before, I was startled and 
shocked at this, and I believe Mrs. Clarendon did not like 
the irreverence. But Mr. Brandagee rattled on without 
regarding her, — " It is n't modest in me to proclaim my 
own skill, but, then, nobody ever accused me of modesty. 
Modesty is an inconvenient article for gentlemen's use. I 
am prouder of my triumph at the Trois Freres than of any- 
thing else in my life. There were only three of us, — Paul 
de Kock and poor Alfred de Musset. When we came to the 
salad I saw their eyes sparkle ; so much the better — I had 
planned a surprise. So I picked up the dish, turned it 
around, smelled it suspiciously, pulled it about a little with 
a fork, and then said to the g argon, ' ofez ga / ' I wish 
you could have seen their faces ; I am sure De Kock 



264 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

ground ' harhare ! ' between his teeth. But I promised to 
give them a substitute, started them on their old, everlast- 
ing dispute about the battle of Zara, — one maintained that 
there had been such a battle, and the other that there had 
n'tj — got the ingredients I wanted, and set to work. They 
were hard at it, throwing Barbarossa and Dandolo, and 1 
don't know who else, across the table at each other's heads, 
when I put their plates before them and said, ' essayez 1 ' 
Each of them made a grimace, and took a little morsel 
with an air of suspicion. When they had fairly tasted it, 
they looked at each other for a full minute without saying 
a word. Then De Kock drew a long breath and cried out, 
' incroyaUe ! ' and De Musset answered, ' enorme ! ' We 
shook hands all around, with tears in our eyes, and always 
tutoyed each other from that very night. Poor De Mus- 
set!" 

After the ladies had withdrawn, cigars were brought on 
the table. Mr. Clarendon, I noticed, did not smoke, and I 
thought he seemed pleased that I followed his example. 
Mr. Severn and Mr. Withering puffed their cigatrs deli- 
cately and cautiously, and drew nearer to their chief, while 
Mr. Brandagee, blowing a great cloud, poured out a glass 
of claret and then pushed the decanter across to me. 

" They are talking over Wonder matters," he said, taking 
Mrs. Clarendon's chair. " That is very fair Lafitte ; try it. 
But I prefer Clos-Vougeot after dinner." 

I took a glass of the wine rather than confess my igno- 
rance of the proper thing, in the presence of such an au- 
thority. 

" By the way," he asked, " are you the Mr. Godfrey who 
has just published a volume of poems ? I read Wither- 
ing's notice of it ; I wish you would send me a copy." 

I gratefully promised to comply. 

'' I think we all begin in that way. I published, in my 
senior year, 'Alcibiades at Syracuse ; ' — don't say you 've 
heard of it, because I know you have n't. I have not seen 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 265 

the thing for ten years, but I dare say it 's insufferable 
trash. Poetry does n't pay. Do you know there are not 
six poets in the world who could live on the profits of their 
verses ? " 

" But it is not money alone," — I began, and then 
stopped, seeing the ends of his projecting under-lip curl 
around the ends of the short upper one, in a peculiar, 
mocking smile. I felt instantly how green and senti- 
mental I must appear in his experienced eyes. 

" I know all you were going to say," he remarked, no- 
ticing my silence. " I was tarred with the same brush, ages 
ago. It 's pretty well scrubbed out of me, but I recognize 
the smell. You believe in fame, in a sort of profane com- 
ing-down of the fiery tongues, don't you ? You 've been 
anointed, and shampooed, and brushed, and combed by 
some barber- Apollo, for an elegant ' mission,' have n't you ? 
And the unwashed and uncombed multitude will turn up 
their noses and scent you afar off, and say to each other, 
' Let us stand aside that The Poet may pass ! ' " 

I was too dazzled by the grotesque fancy of the image to 
feel much hurt by its irony. On the contrary, I was curi- 
ous to know what a man, whose youth, he confessed, had 
known dreams similar to mine, now thought of Literature 
and of Life, after such a large experience of both. I 
therefore laughed, and said, " I don't expect any such rec- 
ognition as that ; — but is it not better to have some faith 
in the work you undertake ? Could any one be a good poet 
who despised his mission, instead of believing in it ? " 

"The greatest poet of this generation," he said, "is 
Heine, who is n't afraid to satirize himself, — who treats his 
poetic faculty very much as Swift treated Celia. The mis- 
sion, and the anointing, and all that, are pleasant supersti- 
tions, I admit ; but one can't live in the world and hold on 
to them. The man who is n't afraid to look at the naked 
truth, under all this surface flummery, is the master. You 
believe, I suppose, that all men are naturally kind, and 



266 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

good, and honest, — that politicians are pure patriots, and 
clergymen are saints, and merchants never take advantage 
of each other's necessities, — that all married couples love 
each other, and all young lovers will be true till death " — 

I could not bear this. My blood was up, and I inter- 
rupted him with a passionate earnestness which contrasted 
strangely with the cold-blooded, negligent cynicism of his 
manner. 

" I am not quite such a fool as that," I said. " I believe 
that men, and women too, are naturally selfish and bad. I 
have no particular respect for them ; and if I should desire 
fame, it would only be for the sake of making them respect 
me." 

He looked at me more attentively than befoi'e, and I felt 
that his keen gray eyes were beginning to spy out my se- 
cret wound. I took another sip of the claret, in the hope 
of turning aside his scrutiny. This movement, also, he 
seemed to understand, but could not resist imitating it. He 
filled his glass, emptied it, and then turned to me with, — 

" So, you would like to be respected by those for whom 
you have no respect. What satisfaction is there in that ? " 

" Not much, I know," I answered ; " but if they honored 
me for saying what I feel to be true and good, I should 
think better of them." 

" Ho, ho ! That 's it, is it ? Your logic is equal to the 
puzzle of Epimenides and the Cretans. You despise men ; 
therefore they respect you ; therefore you respect them. 
I should n't wonder if you had gone through the converse 
experience, to arrive at such a conclusion." 

I was quite bewildered by his rapid, flashy sentences, and 
knew not how to reply. Besides, I saw how keenly he 
tracked my expressions back to their source in my life, and 
made a feeble effort to throw him off the scent. 

"Then you don't think a literary reputation is worth 
having?" I said. 

" By all means ; it is positive capital, in a certain way. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 267 

It makes publishers indorse your promissory notes, opens 
the doors of theatres and opera-houses to you, supplies you 
with dinners witliout end, gives you the best rooms in ho- 
tels, — sometimes complimentary passes on steamboats and 
railways; in the words of the pious, smooths the asperi- 
ties of this life, and does you no harm in the world beyond 
the grave. I should n't in the least object to those advan- 
tages. But if only the school-girls weep over my pages, 
and pencil the words ' sweet ! ' and ' beautiful ! ' on the mar- 
gin, their tears and their remarks won't butter my bread. 
I 'd rather sit on velvet, like Reynolds the Great, propped 
up by forty-seven flash romances, than starve, like Burns, 
and have the pilgrims come to kneel on my bones. Fame 's 
a great humbug. ' Who hath it ? — he that died o' Wednes- 
day!'" 

I was not prepared to disagree with him. His words 
gave direction to the reflux of my feelings from their warm, 
trusting outflow. I acknowledged the authority which his 
great knowledge of life conferred ; and though his hard, 
mocking tone still affected me unpleasantly, I was desirous 
to hear more of views which might one day be my own. 

" Then there is no use in having any ambition ? " I re- 
marked. 

" Cela depend. K a man feels the better for it, let him 
have it. Theophile Gautier used to say, there are but three 
divinities — (^ Youth, Wealth, and Beauty. Substitute Health 
for Beauty, and I agree with him. I have no beauty; — 
I 'm as ugly as sin, but I don't find that it makes any differ- 
ence, either with women or men. Give me health and 
wealth, and I '11 be as handsome as the Antinous. One 
must get old some day ; but even then, what is given to 
youth can be bought for age. Hallo ! the Lafitte is out. 
Stretch down your arm and get the other decanter. Severn 
won't miss it." 

I did as he requested, and Mr. Clarendon, noticing the 
movement, got up and took a seat near me. " Brandagee," 



268 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

he said, " I hope you have not been putting any mischief 
into Godfrey's head." 

" I have none to spare," he replied. " I am keeping it 
bottled up for my article on Mrs. Pudge in Ophelia. By- 
the-by, it 's nine o'clock. I must go down to Niblo's to see 
her once more in the mad scene. These are capital Figa- 
ros, Mr. Clarendon. I '11 take another, to give me a start 
on the article." 

He took six, went into the drawing-room to take leave 
of the ladies, and departed. 

" A brilliant fellow," said Mr. Clarendon, " but spoiled 
by over-praise when young, and indulgence abroad." 

" He 's good company, though," said Severn. 

As for myself, I found myself mentally repeating his 
words, on the way home. Youth, health, and wealth — was 
he not right ? What else was there to be enjoyed, — at 
least for me ? 



JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 269 



CHAPTER XXL 

IN WHICH I ATTEND MRS. YOEKTON'S EECEPTION. 

A FEW days after the dinner, Mr. Brandagee, being in 
the Wo7ider office to read the proof of his article on Mrs. 
Pudge, came to my desk and entered into conversation. I 
had just completed my graphic description of the fall, 
death, and removal of an omnibus-horse on the slippery 
pavement of Broadway (an item afterwards copied in all 
the country papers), and had half an hour to spare, in the 
course of which time quite a pleasant familiarity was estab- 
lished between us. He had looked over my book, which 
he pronounced better than " Alcibiades at Syracuse," to the 
best of his recollection. As he was leaving, he said, — 

" Do you go to Mrs. Yorkton's on Friday evening ? " 

"Mrs. Yorkton?" 

"Yes — the poetess. Though she mostly writes under 
the signature of ' Adeliza Choate.' " 

Was it possible ? Adeliza Choate, — the rival of my 
boyish ambition, — the sister of my first poetic dreams ! I 
had always imagined her as a lovely, dark-eyed girl, with 
willowy tresses and a lofty brow. And she was Mrs. York- 
ton, — married, and giving receptions on Friday evenings ! 
That fact seemed to bring her down to comm.on earth, — to 
obscure the romantic nimbus in which my fancy had envel- 
oped her form ; yet I none the less experienced a violent 
desire to see her. 

" Oh ! " I exclaimed, " I have read her poems, but I do 
not know her personally. I should very much like to go." 

" Nothing easier : 1 11 take you. Friday night, remem- 



270 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

ber. She lives in Fourth Street, and you may as well call 
at the Smithsonian for me. Come early. I had a note 
from her this morning, and she wants me to be there by 
eight o'clock, to assist her in some deuce of a mysterious 
arrangement. She always gets up some sentimental clap- 
trap or other — ' to start conversation in intellectual chan- 
nels,' she says. You'll find all the literary small fry on 
hand, — Smithers, Danforth, Clara Collady, and the like. 
You need n't dress particularly, — it 's quite Bohemian. 
Smithers always wears a scarlet cravat, and an old black 
velvet coat, with half the buttons off." 

This information was rather attractive than otherwise. 
It denoted a proper scorn of conventionalities, which I had 
always looked upon as one of the attributes of genius. A 
side-door, at least, was now opened for me into the en- 
chanted circle which I so longed to enter. The antici- 
pation of the event diverted my mind from its gloomy 
apathy, and helped me along more swiftly through the 
weary days. 

Fortunately, when the evening arrived, there was no 
moral, charitable, political, or religious meeting to report, — 
no pyrotechnic display or torch-light procession to describe, 
— and I could venture to be absent from the office until 
midnight, at which time I was obliged to revise the fires 
and accidents. Notwithstanding Mr. Brandagee's hint as to 
costume, I put on my evening dress, and sprinkled my 
handkerchief with jockey-club. Reaching the Smithsonian 
at half-past seven, I found my chaperon in his room on the 
third story, reading a volume of Balzac, with his feet on a 
chair and a mint-julep at his elbow. 

" By Jove, I forgot ! " he exclaimed, jumping up. " Damn 
Adeliza Choate and the whole tribe ! I 'd ten thousand 
times rather go on with La Peau de Chagrin. But it won't 
do to have you get out of your bandbox for nothing, God- 
frey. Whew !* You have come from Araby the Blest, — 
will you let me 'pursue your triumph and partake your 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 271 

gale ? ^ Adeliza will have a sonnet ' To J. G.' in the next 
* Hesperian,' commencing, — 

' On thine ambrosial locks mj heart reclines.' " 

But he changed his coat and brushed his black hair 
while talking, and we set out for the eastern part of Fourth 
Street. The Yorkton Mecca was a low and somewhat an- 
cient brick house, with a green door and window-blinds. 
Heavy, badly smelling ailanthus-trees in front conveniently 
obscured the livery-stable and engine-house on the opposite 
side of the street, and as there happened to be no fires at 
the time, and no carriages in requisition, the place had a 
quiet, contemplative air. The bell was answered by a small 
mulatto-boy, whose white jacket and trousers were orna- 
mented with broad red stripes down the arms and legs, 
giving him the air of a little yellow harlequin. 

He grinned on seeing Mr. Brandagee, said, " She 's in 
the parlor," and threw open the door thereto. 

Only one gas-burner was yet lighted, but, as the rooms 
were small, I could very well observe the light-blue figure 
which advanced to meet us. Heavens and earth ! where 
was the lovely creature with dark eyes and willowy tresses ? 
I saw, to my unutterable surprise, /a woman of forty-five, 
tall, lean, with a multitude of puckers about her yellowish- 
gray eyes, and long thin lips. On her faded brown hair 
she wore a wreath of blue flowers. Her nose was aquiline, 
and her neck seemed to throw out strong roots in the di- 
rection of her shoulders^ As I looked at the back of it, 
afterwards, I could not help thinking I saw a garland of 
forget-me-nots laid on the dry, mossy stump of a sapling. 

"■ Faithful friend ! Fidus Achates ! " (which she pro- 
nounced Akkatees,) she exclaimed, holding out both hands 
to Brandagee. " You are just in tune. Adonis," (this to 
the striped mulatto-boy,) " light the other burners ! " 

" You know you can always depend upon me, Adeliza," 
Brandagee replied, with a side-wink to me ; "I consider 



272 JOH>T GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

myself as your jidibus. Let me present to you my friend, 
Mr. Godfrey, whose name is familiar to you, no doubt, as 
one of our dawning bards, — ' Leonora's Dream, and Other 
Poems.' " 

" Is it possible ? This is an unexpected acquisition to 
our circle of choice spirits. Mr. Godfrey ! I am delighted 
to make your acquaintance. I have long known and ad- 
mired your poetical self: we are fellow-Hesperians, you 
know." 

Though I was so confounded by the reality of Adeliza's 
appearance, I could not help being flattered by the warmth 
of her reception. I glowed with gratified vanity, as I took 
her offered hand, and said I was very hapi3y to meet Miss 
Choate, whose poems I had read with so much pleasure. 

Brandagee burst into a laugh at my blunder, which I 
also perceived, the moment after it was uttered. Much 
embarrassed, I stammered some awkward words of apology. 

Mrs. Yorkton, however, was rather pleased than offended. 

" No apology is necessary, Mr. Godfrey," she said : " I 
am quite as accustomed to my poetic as to my prosaic 
name. I adopted the former when I first began to write, 
on account of the prejudice which The Herd manifests 
when a woman's hand dares to sweep the strings of the 
Delphic lyre. But the secret w^s soon discovered by tht)se 
friends who knew my Inner Self, and they still like to ad- 
dress me by what they call my ' Parnassian name.' " 

By this time the remaining burners had been lighted, 
and all the features of this bower of the Muses were re- 
vealed to view. The furniture was well-worn, and had ap- 
parently been picked up piece by piece, without regard to 
the general harmony. Over the front mantelpiece hung 
a portrait in crayons of the hostess, with a pen in her hand, 
and her eyes uplifted. On a small table between the win- 
dows stood a large plaster bust of Virgil, with a fresh wreath 
of periwinkle (plucked from the back-yard) upon its head. 
On the two centre-tables were laid volumes of poetry, and 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 273 

some annuals, bound in blue and scarlet cloth. The most 
remarkable feature of the room, however, was a series of 
four oblong black-boards, suspended like picture-frames on 
the walls, each one bordered with a garland of green leaves. 
Upon two of these there were sentences written with chalk ; 
the other two v/ere still empty. 

" There, Mr. Brandagee ! " she exclaimed, waving her thin 
arm with an air of triumph ; " that is my idea for to-night 
Don't you think it suggestive ? Instead of pictures, a preg- 
nant sentence on each of these dark tablets. It seems to 
symbolize Thought starting out in white light from the mid- 
night of Ignorance. Words give mental pictures, you know, 
and I want to have these filled up by distinguished masters. 
Come, and I '11 show you what I have done ! " 

She led the way to the farthest black-board, stationed 
herself before it, with Brandagee on one side and myself 
on the other, and resumed her explanation. " This / have 
written," she said, " not because I could not find any sen- 
tence adapted to the purpose, but because my friends seem 
to expect that I should always oifer them some intellectual 
food. ' Congenial Spirits Move in Harmonious Orbits,' — 
how do you like it ? There must be a great deal of mean- 
ing compressed into a very few words, you know, — oracular, 
suggesting various things. Now, I want to have the same 
thought, or a kindred one, in other languages, on the other 
boards. The next, you see, is French, but I can't go any 
further without your help. What do you think of this ? " 

" ' Les heaiix es])rits se rencoiifrent,' " read Brandagee. 
" Very appropriate, indeed ! Not only abstractly true, but 
complimentary to your guests. And you want the same 
thing in other languages, — what languages ? " 

" One must be German, of course," said she. " Can't 
you remember something from Schiller, or Goeethy, or 
Rikter?" 

" I have it ! Give me the chalk. Your own Orphic ut- 
terance reproduced in the immortal words of Goethe! Did 
18 



274 • JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

you know it ? — the finest line in ' Faust ' ; — what a singu- 
lar coincidence of genius ? " 

Taking the chalk from the ready hand of the delighted 
Mrs. Yorkton, Brandagee 'wrote on the third black-board: 
" Gleiches gesellt sich gem mit Gleichem 1 " I understood the 
words, and was a little at a loss to account for his enthusiasm 
about them. 

" Now for the last ! " said he. " It must be Italian, Span- 
ish, Swedish, or Dutch. I might take a line from Dante, — 

* Lasciate ogni speranza,' and so forth, but that would be 
too palpable to some of the heaux esprits. You want some- 
thing more vague and mystical. Who is there, — Tegner, 
Calderon, Lope de Vega ? — Calderon is best, and now I re- 
call the very sentence for you. There it is, white on black : 

* Cada oveja ha sin parejaJ " 

" It has a lovely sound," she murmured ; " what is the 
meaning ? " 

" Something like this," he answered ; " ' No gentle creat- 
ure is condemned to solitude,' " — but he afterwards whis- 
pered to me that the sentence actually read : ('^very sheep 
has its fellow." 

Mrs. Yorkton grasped his hands with gratitude, and twice 
made the circuit of the rooms to inspect, with radiant sat- 
isfaction, her suggestive m.ental pictures. Then, as Bran- 
dagee had flung himself into a chair, and was tossing over 
the leaves of the annuals, she invited me to take a seat be- 
side her on the sofa. 

"Tell me now, Mr. Godfrey," said she, "what is your 
usual process of composition ? I don't mean the fine frenzy, 
because all poets must have that, of course ; but how do 
you write, and when do you find the combination of influ- 
ences most favorable ? It is a subject which interests me 
greatly; my own temperament is so peculiar. Indeed, 
I have found no one upon whom the Inspiration seizes 
with such power. Does it visit you in the garish hght 
of day, or only awake beneath the stars ? Must you 



JOHN GODFKEY'S FORTUNES. 275 

wear a loose dressing-gown, like Mr. Danforth, or is your 
Muse not impeded by the restraints of dress ? " 

I scarcely knew what answer to make to these questions. 
In fact, I began strongly to suspect that I was no poet. 
I had never supposed that any particular time or costume 
was required for the exercise of the faculty, — had never 
thought of instituting a series of observations upon myself, ' 

for the purpose of determining what conditions were most ^ 

favorable. ^ 

" I am really unable to say," I answered. " I have always 
been in the habit of writing whenever I felt that I had a ..' 

good subject, whether by day or night." (- / 

" How fortunate ! " she exclaimed ; " how I envy you ! ' ^ 

Your physique enables you to do it ; but with my sensitive 
frame, it would be impossible. I feel the approach of In- 
spiration in every nerve ; — my husband \ often tells me 
that he knows beforehand when I am going to write, my ' 
eyes shine so. Then I go up-stairs to my study, which is 
next to my bedroom. It always comes on about three 
o'clock in the afternoon, when the wind blows from the 
south. I change my dress, and put on a long white gown, 
which I wear at no other time, take off my stays, and let 
my hair down my back. Then I prance up and down the *-' . 

room as if I was possessed, and as the lines come to me , '' ' '' 

I dash them on the black-board, one after another, and chant 
them in a loud voice. Sometimes I cover all four of the , 

boards — both sides — before the Inspiration leaves me. vj ^| 
The frail Body is overcome by the excitement of the Soul, (n/ ^ 
and at night my husband often finds me lying on the floor ' '^ 

in the middle of the room, panting — panting ! " 

She gave this information in so wild and excited a man- 
ner, flapping her hands up and down before her to illus- 
trate the operation of prancing, hurling forth one arm, and 
making a convulsive, tremulous line in the air with her 
closed fingers when she came to dashing the words on the 
black-board, and panting so very literally at the close, that 



276 JOHN" GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

I began to be alarmed lest the Inspiration was approaching. 
I looked at her head, and was reassured on finding that the 
forget-me-nots still crowned it, and that her hair was not 
coming down behind. 

" I should think it must be very exhausting," I ventured 
to remark. 

" Killing ! " she exclaimed, with energy. " I am obliged 
to take restoratives and stimulants, after one of these visits. 
It would n't be safe for me to have a penknife in the room, 
— or a pair of scissors, — or a sharp paper-cutter, — while 
the frenzy is on me. I might injure myself before I knew 
it. But it would be a sweet, a fitting death. If it ever 
comes, Mr. Godfrey, you must write my thanatopsis ! " i 

Here Brandagee, sitting at the table with his back to us, 
startled us by bursting into the most violent laughter. Mrs. 
Yorkton evidently did not find the interruption agreeable. 

" What is the matter ? " she asked, in a stiff voice. 

" Oh," said he, " these things of Mrs. Mallard. I have 
just been turning over the ' Female Poets.' The editor 
has given her ten pages. I wonder what she paid him ; 
there must have been an equivalent." 

" Ten pages, indeed ! " ejaculated Mrs. Yorkton, with 
bitterness, " and barely three for me ! That is the way 
literature is encouraged. How anybody can find the traces 
of Inspiration in Mrs. Mallard's machinery — I won't call 
it poetry — I cannot comprehend. I am told, Mr. Bran- 
dagee, that she has become very spiteful, since my recep- 
tions have made a noise in the literary world." 

" I don't doubt it. Detraction and Envy are the inevi- 
table attendants of Genius. But the Eagle should not be 
annoyed at the hostile gyrations of the Vulture." 

" What grand dashes of thought you strike out ! " she 
cried, in an excess of delight and admiration. " That image 
would close a sonnet so finely. K it should return to my 
mind, hereafter, in some Inspired Moment, you will know 
whose hand planted the Seeds of Song." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 277 

" You don't know what a poet I am ! " he said, in his 
mocking way. " If I dared to write. Dr. Brown-Sequard 
said to me one day, in Paris, when he was attending me 
for the rupture of a blood-vessel, caused by writing a poem 
on hearing a nightingale singing in Rue Notre Dame de 
Lorette, — said he, ' Brandagee, my boy, avoid these exal- 
tations, if you don't want to bring up at Pere la Chaise or 
Charenton. Your nature is over-balanced : you must drop 
the spiritual and cultivate the animal.' It was a hard sen- 
tence : but I wanted to live, and I was forced to obey." L ' 

He heaved a deep sigh, which was echoed, in all serious- 
ness, by Mrs. Yorkton. I admired the amazing command 
of face and manner, which enabled him to perpetrate such 
barefaced irony, without exciting her suspicion. It was 
evident that she both believed and admired him. 

The arrival of guests interrupted the conversation. Two 
gentlemen and a lady entered the room. I recognized 
Mr. Smithers at once, by the scarlet cravat and velvet 
coat; the others, as Mrs. Yorkton whispered before pre- 
senting me, were " appreciative sympathizers, not authors." 
The black-board answered their purpose by furnishing 
immediate subjects for talk, and I got on very well with 
the appreciative sympathizers. Presently Mr. Danforth 
arrived, escorting Clara Collady, and followed by Mr. Blue- 
bit, a sculptor, and Mr. S. Mears, a painter. Brandagee 
persisted in calling the latter " Smears." I looked curiously 
at the gentleman who could only write in a loose dressing- 
gown, and found the peculiarity intelligible, supposing he 
usually went as tightly clad as at present. His coat was 
buttoned so that there were horizontal creases around the 
waist, and the seams were almost starting, and it seemed 
impossible for him to bend forward his head without hav- 
ing respiration suspended by his cravat. Whenever he 
nodded in conversation, his whole body, from the hips 
upward, shared the movement. 

Clara Collady was a dmnpy person of twenty-eight or 



278 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

thirty, with a cheerful face and lively little black eyes. 
I sought an introduction to her, and soon found that we 
were mutually ignorant of each other's works. I was sur- 
prised to learn that her name was genuine and not " Par- 
nassian." She was disposed to enjoy the society without 
criticizing its sejDarate members, or suspecting any of them 
of the crime of overlooking her own literary importance. 

" I like to come here," she said. " It rests and refreshes 
me, after a week in the school-room. Mrs. Yorkton is 
sometimes a little too anxious to show people off, which I 
think is unnecessary. They are always ready enough to 
do it without instigation. But it is very pleasant to say 
and do what you please, and I find that I generally learn 
something. I could n't aspire to the higher literary circles, 
you know." 

Loud talking, near at hand, drew my attention. It was 
Smithers engaged in a discussion with S. Mears. 

" Classical subjects are dead — obsolete — antediluvi- 
an ! " cried the former. " Take the fireman, in his red 
flannel shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, — 
the clam-fisher, bare-legged on the sea-shore, — the wood- 
chopper, — the street-sweeper : where will you find any- 
thing more heroic ? " 

" Very good for genre," said S. Mears, " but you would n't 
call it High Art ? " 

" It 's the Highest, sir ! Form and Action, in their grand 
primitive sublimity ! That 's the mistake you painters 
make ; you go on forever painting leather-faced Jeromes, 
and Magdalens with tallow bosoms, instead of turning to 
Life ! Life 's the thing ! A strong-backed 'long-shore-man, 
with his hairy and sunburnt arms, and the tobacco-juice 
in the corners of his mouth, is worth all your saints ! " 

"Very well," said S. Mears; "will you let me paint 
yourself, with vine-leaves in your hair, and only a bit of 
goat-skin around your loins ? I '11 call it Silenus. You '11 
have your 'Life,' and I'll have my classic subject." 



JOHN- GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 279 

Mr. Smithers was evidently getting angry, and would 
have hotly retorted, but for the interposition of Mr. Blue- 
bit, who took an arm of each and shook them good- 
humoredly, saying, " Congenial spirits move in harmoni- 
ous orbits." Brandagee, also, had been attracted by the 
voices, and joined the group. The other three gentlemen, 
I noticed, treated him with a cautious deference, as if they 
had been pricked by his tongue and did not wish to repeat 
the sensation. 

Other guests dropped in, by ones and twos, until the 
small apartments were well jEilled, and the various little 
centres of animated talk blended in an incessant and not 
very harmonious noise. Mrs. Torkton seemed to consider 
me as an acquisition to her circle, — probably because it 
embraced more " appreciative sympathizers " than authors, 
— and insisted on presenting me to everybody, as " one of 
our dawning bards." The kindly cordiality with which I 
was received awoke my benumbed ambition, and cheated 
me into the belief that I had already achieved an enviable 
renown. 

While I was talking to a very hirsute gentleman, — Mr. 
Ponder, who wrote short philosophical essays for "The 
Hesperian," — I heard a familiar female voice behind me. 
Turning around, I beheld the nose, the piercing Oriental 
eyes, and the narrow streak of a forehead of Miss Levi, 
whom I had not seen since Winch's reconciliation ball. 
She was dressed in a dark maroon-colored silk, and the 
word " Titianesque ! " which I heard S. Mears address to 
his friend Bluebit, must have been spoken of her. Among 
so many new faces she impressed me like an old acquaint- 
ance, and I bowed familiarly as soon as I caught her eye. 
To my surprise, she returned the salutation with an uncer- 
tain air, in which there was but half-recognition. 

" How have you been, since we met at Mr. Winch's ? " 
I asked, taking a vacant seat beside her. 

" Oh, very true ! It was there we met : I remember 



28C JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

the song you sang. What a pity Mrs. Yorkton has no 
piano ! " 

I was too much disconcerted by the mistake to set her 
right; but Mrs. Yorkton, beholding us, bent down her 
forget-me-nots and whispered, "And you never told me, 
Miss Levi, that you knew Mr. Godfrey ! Why did you not 
bring him into our circle before ? " 

Miss Levi cast a side-glance at me, recalled my person- 
ality, and answered, with perfect self-.possession, " Oh, I 
think poets should find their way to each other by instinct. 
I can understand them, though I may not be of them. 
Besides, he is false and faithless. You know you are, Mr. 
Godfrey : you are like a bee, going from flower to flower." 

" Which is worse. Miss Levi," I asked, — " the bee that 
visits many flowers, or the flower that entertains many 
bees?" 

She spread her fan, covered the lower part of her face 
with it, and fixed me with her powerful eyes, while Mrs. 
Yorkton nodded her head and observed, "An admirable 
antithesis ! " 

" Now, Mr. Godfrey," Miss Levi resumed, removing her 
fan, " that is a spiteful remark, and you know it. You 
must repeat to me your last poem, before I can forgive 
youi" 

" Pray do ! " cried Mrs. Yorkton, clasping her hands in 
entreaty. " Let us be the first to welcome it, before you 
cast it forth to the hollow echoes of the world. Mr. Dan- 
forth has promised to read to us the first act of his new 
tragedy, and your poem will be a lyrical prelude to the 
sterner recitation." 

But I was steadfast in my refusal. I had written nothing 
since the publication of my volume, and how was I to utter 
to the ears of others the words of love which had become 
a mockery to my own heart ? The controversy drew the 
eyes of others upon us, until Brandagee came to my rescue, 
by proclaiming his own lack of modesty, and demanding a 
test upon the spot. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. • 281 

" What shall it be ? " he asked : " a recitation, a lyrical 
improvisation, or an extemporaneous dramatic soliloquy? 
There 's no difference between writing a thing for others 
to read, and speaking it for others to hear. Poetry is only 
a habit of the mind — a little practice makes it come as 
pat as prose. There was my friend. Von Struensee, the 
great composer, who took it into his head, when he was 
fifty years old, to write the librettos of his own operas. 
Never had attempted a line of poetry before ; so he began 
by lifting the calf, and it was n't long before he could shoul- 
der the ox. The first day he wrote two lines ; the second, 
four ; the third, eight ; the fourth, sixteen ; doubling every 
day until he could do eighteen hundred lines without stop- 
ping to take breath. Do you know that Sir Egerton 
Brydges wrote fourteen thousand sonnets, and I 've no doubt 
they were as good as Cardinal Bembo's, who took forty 
days to a single one. Give me an inspiring subject, — the 
present occasion, for instance, or an apostrophe to our tal- 
ented hostess, — and I '11 turn out the lines faster than you 
can write them." 

The proposal was hailed with acclamation, and the little 
interval which occurred in choosing a subject gave Bran- 
dagee time to collect his thoughts for the work. He had 
skilfully suggested a theme, which, having been mentioned, 
could not well be overlooked, and, to Mrs. Yorkton's intense 
satisfaction, she became his inspiration. He rattled oiF 
with great rapidity a string of galloping lines, in which 
there was not much cohesion, but plenty of extravagant 
comj)liment and some wit. However, it passed as a mar- 
vellous performance, and was loudly applauded. 

Other subjects were immediately suggested, considerably 
to Mr. Danforth's annoyance. This gentleman had been 
fidgeting about the room uneasily, with one hand in his 
pocket, occasionally drawing forth a roll of paper tied with 
red ribbon, and then thrusting it back again. Brandagee, 
perceiving the movement, said, — 



282 • JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" Do not run tlie Pierian fountain dry all at once, I beg 
of you. But, if Mr. Danforth will allow me, I will read 
the portion of his tragedy with which he intends to favor 
us. I flatter myself that I can do justice to his diction." 

The proposal met with favor from all except the author. 
Thrusting the roll deeper into his pocket, and stiffening his 
head angrily, he protested that no one could or should read 
his own manuscript except himself. Besides, he had not 
positively promised that the company should hear it ; the 
plot was not yet developed, and hence the situations would 
not be properly understood. It would be better, perhaps, 
if he waited until the completion of the second act. 

" Wait until all five are finished ! " said Mr. Smithers. 
" It is a bad plan to produce your torsos ; I never knew of 
any good to come of it. Give me the complete figure, — 
bone, muscle, and drapery, and then I'll tell you what 
it is ! " 

Brandagee seconded Mr. Smithers's views so heartily that 
the postponement of the reading was soon accepted, as a 
matter of course, by the company. Mr. Danforth was con- 
sequently in a very ill humor for the rest of the evening. 
He would have gone home at once but that Clara Collady, 
whom he escorted, declared that she was very well pleased 
with the entertainment and was determined to remain. 

Adonis now reappeared with a tray, and we were re- 
galed with cups of weak tea, and cakes of peculiar texture. 
Under the influence of these stimulants, harmony was re- 
stored, and the orbits of the congenial spirits ceased to 
clash. The midnight reports of fires and accidents called 
me away soon afterwards, and I tore myself from Miss 
Levi's penetrating eyes, and Mrs. Yorkton's clutching 
hands, promising to return on successive Friday evenings. 
Brandagee left with me, satisfied, as he said, with having 
« choked ofi" Danforth." 

As I was leaving the room, I caught sight of a mild, 
diminutive gentleman, seated alone in the corner nearest 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 283 

the door. He was looking on and listening, with an air of 
modest enjoyment. None of the others seemed to notice 
him, and I suspected that he had been even forgotten by 
Adonis and the tea-tray. Catching my eye, he jumped up 
briskly, shook hands, and said, — 

" Very much obliged to you for the call. Come again ! '* 

It was Mr. Yorkton. Z' 



284 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

IN WHICH I ENTER GENTEEL SOCIETY AND MEET MY REL- 
ATIVES. 

When the first bitterness of my humiliation and disap- 
pointment had subsided, and the conviction penetrated my 
mind that it might still be possible for me to take a mod- 
erate delight in life, I found that I had quite broken loose 
from my youthful moorings and was more or less adrift, 
both m faith and morals. I do not mean that I was guilty 
of actual violations of my early creed ; my life was so far 
correct, through the negative virtue of habit ; but I was in 
that baseless condition where a strong current — not much 
matter from what side it came — might have carried me far 
enough to settle the character of my future life. I have 
always considered it a special blessing that so much of my 
tinle w^as given to responsible and wearying labor in those 
days. I retained my position on the Wonder, because I had 
not sufficient energy to seek an easier situation, and no de- 
sire to try new associations. The variety of my work pre- 
vented steady thought, and I found less difficulty in escaping 
from the contemplation of my wrongs. Not yet, however, 
was I able to congratulate myself on the treachery which 
had released my heart from a mistaken bond. { 

I attended Mrs. Yorkton's receptions quite regularly for 
some wrecks. As the steady summer heats came on, her 
bower was partly deserted, the artists and authors having 
gone into the rural districts and taken many of the " appre- 
ciative sympathizers " with them. Miss Levi departed, 
early in July, for " old Long Island's sea-girt shore " (as she 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 285 

remarked). I afterwards discovered that she meant Fire 
Island. It was at once a relief and a regret to me, when 
she left. I began to enjoy the sham skirmishes of senti- 
ment in which we indulged, especially as there was no like- 
lihood of either being damaged by the pastime*; and, on 
the other hand, I was a little afraid of her bewildering 
glances, which seemed to increase in frequency and power 
of fascination every time we met. 

Brandagee did not again attend. He left the city, soon 
after our acquaintance commenced, for a tour of the wa- 
tering-places, and his sharp, saucy, brilliant letters from 
Newport and Saratoga took the place of his dramatic criti- 
cisms in the columns of the Wonder. I prevailed on 
Swansford to accompany me, on two occasions, and Mrs. 
Yorktown was very grateful. Music, she said, had not yet 
been represented in her society, and she was delighted to 
be able to present what she called " The Wedded Circle 
of the Arts," although certain that Mrs. Mallard would be 
furious when she should hear of it. The thinness of the 
attendance during the dog-days gave me an opportunity to 
cultivate Mr. Yorkton's acquaintance, and the modest little 
man soon began to manifest a strong attachment for me. 

" Bless you, Mr. Godfrey ! " he said, I don't know how 
many times, " I s'pose I 'm of no consequence to you Ge- 
nusses, but I do like to exchange a friendly word with a 
body. These is all distinguished people, and I 'm proud 
to entertain 'em. It does credit to Her — I can see that. 
I 'm told you can't find sich another Galaxy of Intellex, 
not in New- York. A man in my position has a right to be 
proud o' that." 

Although he often referred to his position in the same 
humble manner, I never ascertained what it was. When I 
ventured to put forth a delicate reconnoissance, he looked 
at his wife, as if expecting a warning glance, and I then 
surmised that she had prohibited him from mentioning the 
subject. 



286 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

I made but little progress in my literary career during 
this time. Not more than seventy-five copies of my book 
had been sold, and although the publisher did not seem to 
be at all surprised at this result, I confess I was. Never- 
theless, when I read it again in my changed mood, sneer- 
ing at myself for the under-current of love and tenderness 
which ran through it, — recalling the hopes with which I 
had written, and the visions of happiness it was to herald, 
— I found there was not left sufficient pride in my perform- 
ance to justify me in feeling sensitive because it had failed. 
I contributed two or three stories to " The Hesperian," but 
early in the fall Mr. Jenks became bankrupt, and the mag- 
azine passed into other hands. My principal story was 
published the month this disaster occurred, and it has not 
been decided to this day, I believe, which party was re- 
sponsible for the payment. All I understand of the matter 
is that the payment was never made. 

My increased salary, nevertheless, suggested the propri- 
ety of living in a somewhat better style than Mrs. Very's 
domestic circle afforded. It was hard to part from my daily 
companionship with Swansford, but he generously admitted 
the necessity of the change in my case, and I faithfully 
promised that we should still see each other twice or thrice 
a week. It was more difficult to escape from Mrs. Very. 
" It 's an awful breaking up of the family," said she, " and 
I did n't think you 'd serve me so. I 've boarded you 
reasonable, though I say it. I may not be Fashionable," 
(giving a loud sniff at the word,) " but I 'm Respectable, 
and that 's more ! " 

At dinner, that day, she made the announcement of my 
departure in a pleasant voice and with a smiling face. But 
the constrained vexation broke out in her closing words, — 
" There 's some that stands by me faithful, and some that 
don't." 

Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer expressed their regret in phrases 
which the Complete Letter- Writer could not have im- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 287 

proved, while IMiss Tatting, in whom Impulsiveness waged 
a continual "war with Conventionality, came plumply forth 
with her real sentiments. 

" I see how it is," said she ; " you are getting up in the 
world, and Hester Street is too much out of the v/ay. It 's 
natural in you, and I don't blame you a bit. I 've often 
said it would turn out so, — have n't I, Martha ? " 

This was to IVIiss Dunlap, who glanced at me with a 
stealthy look of reproach, as she murmured, " Yes, aunt." 

I knew that I was a monster of ingratitude in Mrs. 
Very's eyes, a fortunate man in the Mortimers', and a 
proud one in those of Miss Tatting and her niece. My 
last dinner in Hester Street was therefore constrained and 
uncomfortable, and I made all haste to evacuate the famil- 
iar attic room. My new residence was the elegant board- 
ing-house of Mrs. De Peyster, in Bleecker Street, west of 
Broadway. Here I paid six dollars a week for a fourth- 
story room back, furnished with decayed elegance, having 
a grate for winter, a mosquito-net for summer, and a small 
mahogany cabinet and bookcase for all seasons. The lat- 
ter, in fact, was the lure which had fascinated me, on the 
day when Mrs. De Peyster, waiting in state in the parlor 
below, sent me up-stairs with the chambermaid to inspect 
the room. 

When my effects had been transferred to these new quar- 
ters, and I had arranged my small stock of books on the 
shelves, placed my manuscript in the drawers of the cabi- 
net, and seated myself with "Wordsworth in an arm-chair 
at the open window, I seemed to be enveloped at once in 
an atmosphere of superior gentility. The backyards em- 
braced in my view were not only more spacious than those 
under Swansford's window in Hester Street, but the board- 
partitions betY»^een them were painted, and a row of grape- 
arbors hid the lower stories of the opposite block. From 
one of the open windows below me arose the sound of a 
piano. It was not a favorable post for reading enthusiastic 



288 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

lines about celandines and daffodils, and I frankly admit 
that I found Wordsworth rather tame. 

This was during the half hour before dinner. When the 
bell rang, I descended, not to the basement, but to the 
back-parlor, where Mrs. De Peyster introduced me to my 
neighbor at the foot of the table, Mr. Renwick, a clerk in 
an importing house down town. H^ was a younger, taller, 
and more elegant variety of the Mortimer type : correct- 
ness was his prominent characteristic. There was also a 
young married couple, a family consisting of father, moth- 
er, and two daughters, and four gentlemen of various ages, 
all bearing the same stamp of unimpeachable propriety. 
The dinner was a much more solemn ajffair than at Mrs. 
Very's. Thin morsels of fish succeeded the soup, and the 
conversation, commencing Avith the roast and vegetables, 
in a series of tentative skirmishes, only became fairly 
established towards the close of the meal. 

Mr. Ren wick, oblivious of my presence for the first ten 
minutes after the introduction, suddenly startled ^ne by 
saying,— 

" I see that Erie went up at the Second Board, to-day." 

" Indeed ? " I remarked, feeling that a slight expression 
of surprise would not be out of place ; though what " Erie " 
was, and why it should go up at the Second Board, was a 
mystery to me. 

" Yes. Five eighths," said he. Then, as if conscious 
that he had done his duty, he became silent again until the 
close of the dessert, when, warming up over a slice of water- 
melon, he observed, in a lower and more confidential tone, — 

" I should n't wonder if the balance of Exchange were 
on our side before Christmas." 

" What reasons have you for thinking so ? " I asked at 
random. 

" Crops. I always keep the run of themJ^ 

" They are very fine, I suppose," I ventured to say, with . 
fear and trembling. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 289 

" You mean here ? Yes. And I see that the prospects 
of Pork are flattering. Everything combines, you know." 

I did n't know in the least, but of course I nodded and 
looked wise, and said I was glad to hear it. Of all talk I 
had ever heard, this seemed to me to be the most dread- 
fully soulless. I looked up the table and listened. The 
two girls were talking with the young wife about a wonder- 
ful poplin at Stewart's, — silver gray with green sprigs ; 
the gentlemen were discussing the relative speed of Scal- 
pel and Oriana, and the heavy mother was lamenting to 
the attentive Mrs. De Peyster that they had been obliged 
to leave Newport before the regatta came off, " on account 
of Mr. Yarrow's business, — the firm never can spare him 
for more than a month at a time." 

How I longed for the transparent pretension of the table 
in Hester Street, constantly violating the rules of its own 
demonstrative gentility ! For my easy chat with Swans- 
ford, for Miss Dunlap's faded sentiment, Miss Tatting's fear- 
less impulsiveness, and even Mrs. Very's stiffly stereotyped 
phrases ! There, the heavy primitive cooking was digested 
by the help of lively nothings of talk and the peristaltic 
stimulus of laughter : here, the respectably dressed viands, 
appearing in their conventional order of, procession, were 
received with a stately formality which seemed to repel their 
attempts at assimilation. "Erie" and the "balance of 
exchange " mixed, somehow, with the vanilla-flavored hlanc 
mange, and lay heavy on my stomach : the prospect of Mr. 
Renwick's neighborhood embarrassed and discouraged me, 
but I could not see that any advantage would be gained by 
changing my place at the table. 

After dinner I hurried across to my old quarters, for the 
relief of Swansford's company. He laughed heartily at my 
description of the genteel society into which I was now 
introduced, and said, — 

" Ah, Godfrey, you '11 find as I have done that Art spoils 
you for life. It is the old alternative of God or Mammon ; / 
19 



290 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

you can't serve two masters. Try it, if you like, but I 
see how it will end. I have made my choice, and will 
stick to it until I die : you think you have made yours, 
but you have not. You are getting further from Art 
every day," 

I resented this opinion rather warmly, because I felt 
a suspicion of its truth. I protested that nothing else but 
Literature was now left me to live for. It was true I had 
seemed to neglect it of late, but he, Swansford, knew the 
reason, and ought to be the last man to charge me v>^ith 
apostasy to my lofty intellectual aims. He half smiled, in 
his sweet, sad way, and gave me his hand. 

" Forgive me, Godfrey," he said ; " I did n't mean as 
much as you supposed. I was thinking of that single- 
hearted devotion to Art, of which few men are capable, 
and which, God knows, I should not wish you to possess, 
unless you were sure that you were destined to reach the 
highest place. Most authors and artists live in the border 
land, and make excursions from time to time over the 
frontier, but there are few indeed who build their dwell- 
ings on the side turned away from the world!" 

" I understand you now, Swansford," I answered, " and 
you are right. I am not destined to be one of the highest; 
don't think that I ever imagined it. I am cast alone on the 
world. I have been cheated and outraged, as you know. 
I see Life before me, offering other — lower modes of en- 
joyment, I will not deny ; but where else shall I turn for 
compensation ? Suppose I should achieve fame as an au- 
thor? I have a little already, and I feel that even the 
highest would not repay me for what I have lost. I shall 
not reject any other good the gods provide me. I 've tried 
purity and fidelity of heart, to no purpose. I don't say that 
I '11 try the opposite, now, but you could n't blame me if I 
did ! " > 

" Come, Godfrey," said he, " I 've written a voluntary 
for the organist of St. Barnaby's. He paid me to-day, and 



JOHN GODFKEY'S FORTUNES. 291 

I have two dollars to spare. "We '11 go out and have a lit- 
tle supper together." 

Which we did, and in the course of which we put the 
World on its trial, heard all the arguments on either side, 
rendered (without leaving our seats) a verdict of " Guilty," 
and invoked the sentence which we were powerless to in- 
flict. What should I have done without that safety-valve 
of Swansford's friendship ? 

By-and-by I grew more accustom.ed to my life in Bleecker 
Street. I found that Mr. Eenwick could talk about Mrs. 
Pudge and the drama, as well as Erie and the Second 
Board ; and that Mr. Blossom, the very same gentleman 
who had bet ten dollars on Scalpel at the Long Island 
races, was an enthusiastic admirer of Tennyson. He had 
a choice library of the English Poets in his room, and oc- 
casionally lent me volumes. I learned to read Words- 
worth at my window, to the accompaniment of the fashion- 
able redowa on the first-floor piano, and after many days 
there dawned upon my brain the conviction that there was 
another kind of poetry than Tom Moore's and Felicia He- 
mans's. 

I grew tolerably skilful in the performance of my labor 
for the Wonder, having fallen into an unconscious imitation 
of Brandagee's smart, flashy style, which gave piquancy to 
my descriptions and reports. Mr. Clarendon was quite 
satisfied with my performance, though he let fall a word of 
warning. " This manner," he said, " is very well for your 
present department, but, if you want to advance, you must 
not let it corrupt you entirely." 

Thus the summer and part of the autumn passed away, 
without bringing any occurrence worthy of being recorded. 
Towards the end of October, however, a sudden and most 
unexpected pleasure came to cheer me. 

I had gone into the St. Nicholas Hotel on some errand 
connected with my newspaper labors, and was jDassing out 
again through the marble-paved lobby, when a gentleman 



292 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

suddenly arose from the row of loungers on the broad, car- 
pet-covered stalls, and stepped before me. A glance of his 
dark, questioning eyes seemed to satisfy him ; he seized my 
hand, and exclaimed, — 

" John Godfrey, is this really you ? " 

Penrose! my cousin ! I had not forgotten him, although 
our correspondence, after languishing for a few months, 
had died a natural death before I left Reading:. For two 
years I had heard no word of him, and, since my bitter 
experience of the past summer, had reckoned it as one of 
the improbable possibilities of life that we should ever meet 
again. His boyish beauty -had ripened into an equally 
noble manhood. He was taller and stronger limbed, with- 
out having lost any of his grace and symmetry. A soft, 
thick moustache hid the sharp, scornful curve of his upper 
lip, and threw a shade over the corners of his mouth, and 
the fitful, passionate spirit which once shot from his eyes 
had given place to a full, steady ray of power. As I looked 
at him, I felt proud that the same blood ran in our veins. 

"We sought out a vacant corner in the reading-room and 
sat down together. He looked once more into my eyes 
K with an expression of honest affection, which warmed the 
embers of my school-boy feeling for him in an instant. 

" We should not have lost sight of each other, John," he 
said. " It was more my fault than yours, I think ; but I 
never forgot you. I could scarcely believe my eyes when 
we met, just now. Yours is a face that would change more 
than mine. There is not much of the boy left in it. Come, 
give me your history since you left Dr. Dymond's." 

I complied, omitting the most important episode. Pen- 
rose heard the story with keen interest, interrupting me 
only with an ejaculation of " The old brute ! " when I re- 
lated my uncle's management of my inheritance. 

" Now," said he, when T had finished, " you shall have 
my story. There is very little of it. I was twent;/, you 
may remember, when I left the Doctor's school, and went 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 293 

into my uncle's office. I had no expectation of ever receiv- 
ing any assistance from my father, and v/orked like a yomig 
fellow who has his fortune to make. I believe I showed 
some business capacity ; at least my uncle thought so ; and 
after I came of age my father found it prudent to make an 
outside show of reconciliation. Matilda insists that the 
Cook had a hand in it, but I prefer not to believe it. If 
she had, I rather think she was disappointed at the result ; 
for, when my father died, a year ago, he only left her the 
legal third. The rest was divided between Matilda and 
myself. I 'm sure I expected to be cut off with a shilling, 
but it seems his sense of justice came back to him at the 
last. His fortune was much less than everybody supposed, 
— barely a hundred thousand — and I have my suspicions 
that the Cook laid away an extra share in her own name 
before his death. It makes no difference to me now ; we 
are well rid of her. Matilda was married a month ago, 
and, though I can't say that I particularly admire the 
brother-in-law she has selected for me, I am satisfied that 
she is out of the hands of that woman." 

" Are you living in New York, Alexander ? " I asked. 

" Not now ; but I may fix my home here, very soon. I 
shall have another motive, old fellow, now that I know you 
are here. I have a chance of getting into a firm down 
town, if my little capital can be stretched to meet the sum 
demanded. I have luxurious tastes, — they are in the 
Hatzfeld blood, are they not ? — and I could not be con- 
tent to sit down at my age, with my two thousand a year. 
I suppose I shall marry some day, and then I must have 
ten thousand." 

It did not surprise me to hear Penrose speak slightingly 
of a fortune which, to me, would have been a splendid com- 
petence. It belonged to his magnificent air, and any stran- 
ger could have seen that he would certainly acquire what- 
ever' his ambition might select as being necessary to his 
life. I never knew a man who, without genius, so im- 



294 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

pressed every one with a belief in his powers of command- 
ing success. 

As I stretched out my hand to say good-bye, he grasped 
me by the arm, and said, " You must see Matilda. She is 
in her private parlor, and I think Shanks, her husband, 
will be at home by this time." 

I had no very strong desire to make the acquaintance of 
my other cousin, and I suppose Penrose must have read 
the fact in my face, for he remarked, as we were mount- 
ing the stairs, "Now I remember, there was something 
in one of Matilda's letters which was not very flattering to 
you. But I have told her of our friendship since, and I 
know that she will be really glad to see you. She has not 
a bad heart, when you once get down to it ; though it seems 
to me, sometimes, to be as grown over with selfish habits 
and affectations as a ship's hull with barnacles." 

When we entered the private parlor on the third floor, I 
perceived an elegant figure seated at the window. 

" 'Till," said Penrose, " come here and shake hands with 
our cousin, John Godfrey ! " 

" P-really ? " she exclaimed, with as much surprise as 
was compatible with a high-bred air, and the next moment 
rustled superbly across the room. 

^ " How do you do, cousin ? " she said, giving me a jew- 
elled hand. ^^Are you my cousin, Mr. Godfrey? Aleck 
explained it all to me once how you found out the relation- 
ship, somewhere in a wild glen, was n't it ? It was quite 
romantic, I know, and I envied him at the time. You 
have the Hatzfeld eyes, certainly, like us. I 'm sure I 'm 
very glad to make your acquaintance." 

I expressed my own gratification with as much show of 
sincerity as I could command. Matilda Shanks was a tall, 
fine-looking woman, though by no means so handsome as 
her brother. Her eyes and hair were dark, like his, but 
her face was longer, and some change in the setting of the 
features, almost too slight to be defined, substituted an ex- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 295 

pression of weakness for the strength of his. She must 
have been twenty-seven, but appeared to be two or three 
years older, — a result, probably, of the tutorship she had 
assumed on her step-mother's behalf. 

" Well, 'Till," said Penrose, when we had seated ourselves 
in a triangular group, " do you find him presentable ? " 

Her eyes had already carefully gone over my person 
from head to foot. " Tres comme il faut" she answered ; 
" but I took your word for that, beforehand, Aleck." 

"You must know, Godfrey, that Matilda is a perfect 
dragon in regard to dress, manners, and all the other requi- 
sites of social salvation. It 's a piece of good luck to pass 
muster with her, I assure you. I have not succeeded 
yet." 

She was beginning to put in an affected disclaimer when 
Mr. Shanks entered the room. I saw his calibre at the 
first glance. The wide trousers, flapping around the thin 
legs ; the light, loose coat, elegantly fitting at the shoulders 
and just touching its fronts on the narrow ground of a 
single button ; the exquisite collar, the dainty gloves and 
patent-leather boots, and the gold-headed switch, all pro- 
claimed the fashionable young gentleman, while the dull, 
lustreless stare of the eyes, the dark bands under them, 
and the listless, half-closed mouth, told as plainly of sliallow 
brains and dissipated habits. He came dancing up to his 
wife, put one arm around her neck and kissed her. ^ H W "^ 

She lifted up her hand and gave his imperial a little 
twitch, by way of returning the caress, and then said, " Ed- 
mund, my cousin, Mr. Godfrey." 

" Ah ! " exclaimed Edmund, hastily thrusting an eye-glass 
into his left eye and turning towards me. Eetaining his 
hold of the switch with tvv^o fingers, he graciously presented 
TOe with the other two, as he drawled out, " Very happy, 
sir." 

I was vexed at myself afterwards that I gave him my 
whole hand. I know of no form of vulgarity so offensive 



296 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

/ as this offering of a fractional salutation. None but a snob 
/ would ever be guilty of it. ^i' ' : ; • - 

A conversation about billiards and trotting-horses ensued, 

and I broke away in the midst of it, after promising to dine 

with the Shanks at an early day. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 297 



CHAPTER XXni. 

DESCRIBING MT INTERVIEW WITH MARY MALONET. 

One result of my out-door occupation was to make me 
familiar with all parts of the city. During the first year 
of my residence I had seen little else than Broadway, from 
the Battery to Union Square, Chatham Street, and the 
Bowery. I now discovered that there were many other 
regions, each possessing a distinct individuality and a sep- 
arate city-life of its own. From noticing the external char- 
acteristics, I came gradually to study the peculiarities of 
the inhabitants, and thus obtained a knowledge which was 
not only of great advantage to me in a professional sense, 
but gave me an interest in men which counteracted, to 
some extent, the growing cynicism of my views. Often, 
when tired of reading and feeling no unpulse to write, (the 
greatest portion of my literary energy being now expended 
on my regular duties,) I would pass an idle but not useless 
hour in wandering around the sepulchral seclusion of St. 
John's Park, with its obsolete gentility ; or the solid plain- 
ness of East Broadway, — home of plodding and prosperous 
men of business ; or the cosmopolitan rag-fair of Green- 
wich Street; or the seething lowest depth of the Five 
Points ; the proud family aristocracy of Second, or the 
pretentious moneyed aristocracy of Fifth Avenue, — invol- 
untarily contrasting and comparing these spheres of life, 
each of which retained its independent motion, while re- 
volving in the same machine. 

I will not trouble the reader with the speculations which 
these experiences suggested. They were sufficiently com- 



298 JOHN GODFREY'S FOETUXES. 

monplace; I dare say, and have been uttered several mil- 
lions of times, by young men of the same age ; but I none 
the less thought them both original and profound, and con- 
sidered myself a philosopher, in the loftiest sense of the 
word. I imagined that I comprehended the several na- 
tures of the rich and the poor, the learned and the igno- 
rant, the righteous and the vicious, from such superficial 
observation, — not yet perceiving, through my own experi- 
ence, the common flesh and spirit of all men. 

One afternoon, as I was slowly returning towards my 
lodgings from a professional inspection of a new church 
in Sixth Avenue, I was struck by the figure of a woman, 
standing at the corner of Bleecker and Sullivan Streets. 
A woman of the laboring class, dressed in clean but faded 
calico, — leaning against the area-railing of the corner 
house, with a weak, helpless appeal expressing itself in her 
attitude. Her eyes were fixed upon me as I passed, with 
a steady, imploring gaze, which ran through me, like a 
palpable benumbing agency, laming my feet as they walked. 
Yet she said nothing, and could scarcely, I thought, be a 
beggar. I was well accustomed to the arts of the street- 
beggars, and usually steeled myself (though with an un- 
conquerable sense of my own inhumanity) against their 
appeals. Now and then, however, I met with one whom 
I could not escape. There was a young fellow, for instance, 
with both his legs cut off at the thighs, who paddled his 
way around the Park by means of his hands.' I had been 
told that he was in good circumstances, having received 
heavy damages from the Hudson River Eailroad Company ; 
but*I could not stand the supplication of his eyes whencAer 
we met, and was obliged either to turn my head away or 
lose two shillings. There was the same magnetism in this 
woman's eyes, and before I crossed the street, I felt myself 
impelled to turn and look at her again. 

She came forward instantly as I did so, yet not so 1-ap- 
idly tliat I could not perceive the struggle of some power- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 299 

ful motive with her natural reluctancy. I stepped back to 
the sidewalk. 

" Oh, sir ! " said she, " perhaps you could help a poor 
woman." 

I was suspicious of my own sympathy, and answered 
coldly, " I don't know. What is the matter with you ? " 

" It 's the rent," she said. " I can always airn my own 
livin' and have done it, and the rent too, all to this last 
quarter, when I 've been so ailin', and my boy gits no wages 
at all. If I don't pay it, I '11 be turned into the street to- 
morrow. I 'm no beggar : I niver thought to ha' beseeched 
anybody while my own two hands held out : but there it is, 
and here I am, and if it was n't for my boy I would n't care 
how soon the world 'd come to an end for me'. The best 
things was pawned to pay the doctor, only my weddin'-ring 
I can't let go, for Hugh's sake. His blessed soul would 
n't be satisfied, if I was buried without that on my finger." 

She was crying long before she finished speaking, turn- 
ing the thin hoop of very pale gold with her other thumb 
and finger, and then clasping her hands hard together, as 
if with an instinctive fear that somebody might snatch it 
off. This action and her tears melted me entirely tci pity. 

" How much must you have ? " I asked. 

" It 's a whole quarter's rent — fifteen dollars. If that 
was paid, though I 'm a little wake yet, I could wurrk for 
the two of us. Could you help me to it any way ? " 

" Where do you live ? " 

" It 's jist by here — in Gooseberry Alley. And the 
Feenys will tell you it 's ivery word true I 've said. Andy, 
or his wife aither, was willin' enough to help me, but she 
has a baby not a week old, and they 've need of ivery 
penny." 

She turned, with a quick, eager movement, and I fol- 
lowed, without any further question. Gooseberry Alley 
was but a few blocks distant. It was a close, dirty place, 
debouching on Sullivan Street, and barely wide enough for 



300 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

a single cart to be backed into. The houses were of brick, 
but had evidently been built all at once, and in such a 
cheap way that they seemed to be already tumbling down 
from a lack of cohesive material. A multitude of young 
children were playing with potato parings or stirring up 
the foul gutter in the centre of the alley with rotting cab- 
bage-stalks. I remember thinking that Nature takes great 
pains to multiply the low types of our race, while she heed- 
lessly lets the highest run out. A very disagreeable smell, 
which I cannot describe, but which may be found wherever 
the poor Irish congregate, filled the air. That alone was 
misery enough, to my thinking. 

About half-way up the alley, the woman entered a house 
on the right-hand, saying, " It 's a poor place, sir, for the 
likes of you to come into, but you must see whether I spake 
the truth." 

In the narrow passage the floor was so dirty and the 
walls so smutched and greasy that I shuddered and held the 
skirts of my coat close to my sides ; but when we had 
mounted a steep flight of steps and entered the woman's 
own apartment, — a rear projection of the house, — there 
«5vas a change for the better. The first room was a bed- 
room, bare and with the least possible furniture, but com- 
fortably clean. Beyond this there was a smaller room, 
which seemed to be a combined kitchen and laundry, to 
judge from the few necessary implements. The woman 
dusted an unpainted wooden stool with her apron and gave 
it to me for a seat. 

" My boy made it," said she ; " the master let him do 
that much, but it 's little time he gits for such things." 

She then entered into an explanation of her circum- 
stances, from which I learned that her name was Mary 
Maloney ; that she was a native of the North of Ireland, 
and had emigrated to America with her husband ten years 
before. They had had many ups and downs, even while 
the latter lived. I suspected, though she did not say it, 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 301 

that he was a reckless, improvident fellow, whose new 
independence had completed his ruin. After his death, she 
had supported herself mostly by washing, but succeeded 
in getting her boy, Hugh, admitted as an apprentice into a 
large upholstery establishment, and might have laid up a 
little in the Savings-Bank, if she had not been obliged to 
feed and lodge him for the first two years, only one of which 
was passed. Hugh was a good boy, she said, the picture 
of his father, and she thought he would be all the better 
for having a steady trade. After a while he would get 
wages, and be able to keep not only himself but her, too. 
"Would I go into Feeny's — the front rooms on the same 
floor — and ask them to testify to her carackter ? 

I did not need any corroborative evidence of her story. 
The woman's honesty was apparent to me, in her simple, 
consistent words, in her homely, worn features and un- 
shrinking eyes, and in the utter yet decent poverty of her 
dwelhng. I determined to help her, — but there were 
scarcely five dollars in my pocket and fifteen were to be 
paid on the morrow. It was drawing near to Mrs. De 
Peyster's dinner-hour, and I recollected that on two or 
three occasions small collections for charitable purposes 
had been taken up at that lady's table. I therefore deter- 
mined to state the case, and ask the assistance of the other 
boarders. 

"I must go now," I said, "but will try to do some- 
thing for you. Will you be here at seven o'clock this 
evening ? " 

" I niver go out o' th' evenin', " she answered, " and not 
often o' th' day. Hugh '11 be home at seven. If you could 
only lend me the money, sir, — I don't ask you to give it, 
— I 'd do some washin' for y'rself or ^r family, a little ivery 
wake, to pay ye back ag'in." 

Wlien we had reached a proper stage of the dinner, I men- 
tioned the matter to Messrs. Renwick and Blossom, asking 
them whether they and the other gentlemen would be will- 
ing to contribute towards the sum required. 



802 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" You are satisfied that it is a case of real distress, and 
the money is actually needed ? " asked the latter. 

" I am quite sure of it." ^ 

" Then here are two dollars, to begin -wdth. I think we 
can raise the whole amount." He took advantage of a lull 
in the conversation and repeated my statement to the com- 
pany. After a few questions which I was able to answer, 
pocket-books were produced and note after note passed 
down the table to me. Upon counting them, I found the 
sum contributed to be nineteen dollars. I stated this fact, 
adding it was more than was required. Some one an- 
swered, " So much the better, — the woman will have four 
dollars to begin the next quarter with." The others ac- 
quiesced, and then resumed their former topics of conver- 
sation, satisfied that the matter v^as now settled. I was 
greatly delighted with this generous response to my appeal, 
and began to wonder whether the shallow, superficial inter- 
ests with which my fellow-boarders seemed to be occupied, 
were not, after all, a mere matter of education. They had 
given, in a careless, indifferent way, it was true ; but then, 
they had given and not withheld. I had no right to suppose 
sthat their sympathy for the poor widow was not as genuine 
as my own. I have learned, since then, that this noble 
trait of generosity belongs to the city of my adoption. 
With all their faults, its people are unstinted givers ; and 
no appeal, supported by responsible authority, is ever made 
to them in vain. 

When I returned to Gooseberry Alley in the evening, 
I found Mary Maloney waiting for me at the door, her face 
wild and pale in the dim street-light. When she saw me 
I suppose she read the coming relief in my face, for she 
began to tremble, retreating into the dirty, dark passage as 
she whispered, " Come up-stairs, will you, plase — my boy 's 
at home ! " 

An ironing-board was laid across two boxes in the kitchen, 
and Hugh, a short, stout lad of seventeen, was ironing a 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 303 

shirt upon it. His broad face, curly red hair, and thick 
neck were thoroughly Irish, but his features had already 
the Bowery expression, — swaggering, impudent, and good- 
humored. His bare arms, shining milk-white in the light 
of the single tallow-candle, showed the firmness and ful- 
ness of the growing muscle. The picture of his father 

— his mother had said. I did not doubt it; I saw al- 
ready the signs of inherited appetites which only the 
strictest discipline could subdue. He stopped in his work, 
as we entered, looked at me, then at his mother, and some- 
thing of her anxiety was reflected on his face. I even 
fancied that his color changed as he waited for one of us 
to speak. 

In the interest with which I regarded him, I had almost 
forgotten my errand. There was a sudden burning smell, 
and an exclamation from Mrs. Maloney, — 

" Hugh, my boy — look what y 're a-doin' ! The shirt, — 
whativer shall I do if y 've burnt a hole in it ? " 

Hugh's hand, holding the iron, had rested, in his suspense, 
fortunately not upon the shirt, but the blanket under it, 
making a yellow, elliptical scorch. He flung down the iron 
before the little grate, and said, almost fiercely : — 

" Why couldn 't you tell me at once, mother ! " 

" I have the money, Mrs. Maloney," I answered for her, 

— " the fifteen dollars and a little more." 

" I knowed you 'd bring it ! " she exclaimed ; " what 
didn't I tell you, Hugh ? I was afeared to be too shure, 
but somethin' told me I 'd be helped. Bless "God we '11 see 
good times yit, though they 've been so long a-comin' ! " 

The tears were running down her face, as she tried to 
say some words of thanks. Hugh's eyes were moist, 
too; he darted a single grateful glance at me, but said 
nothing, and presently, seating himself on the wooden 
stool, began to whistle " Garryowen." I delivered into 
Mrs. Maloney's hands the fifteen dollars, and then seven 
more (having added three, as my own contribution) for any 



304 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

additional necessities. I explained to her how the sum had 
been raised as a free and willing gift, not a loan to be re- 
paid by painful savings from her scanty earnings. Then, 
beginning to look upon myself as a benefactor, I added 
some words of counsel which I might well have spared. 
With a more sensitive subject, I fancy they would have an- 
nulled any feeling of obligation towards me ; but Mary 
Maloney was too sincerely grateful not to receive them 
humbly and respectfully. She begged to be -allowed to 
take charge of my washing, which I agreed to give her on 
condition that I should pay the usual rates. Her intention, 
however, as I afterwards discovered, included the careful 
reparation of frayed linen, the replacement of buttons, and 
the darning of stockings ; and in this way my virtue was 
its own reward. 

I turned towards Hugh, in whom, also, I began to feel a 
protecting interest. After a little hesitancy, which mostly 
originated in his pride, he talked freely and quite intelli- 
gently about his trade. It was a large establishment, and 
they did work for a great many rich families. After an- 
other year, he would get five dollars a week, taldng one 
season with another. He liked the place, although they 
gave him the roughest and heaviest jobs, he being stronger 
in the arms than any of the other boys. He could read 
and write a little, he said, — would like to have a chance 
to learn more, but there was ironing to do every night. 
He had to help his mother to keep her customers ; it was 
n't a man's work, but he did n't mind that, at all, — it 
went a little ways towards paying for his keep. 

Something in the isolated life and mutual dependence of 
this poor widow and son reminded me of my own boyish 
days. For the first time in many months I spoke of my 
mother, feeling sure that the humble understandings I ad- 
dressed would yet appreciate all that I could relate. My 
heart was relieved and softened as I spoke of mother's self- 
denial, of her secret sufferings and her tragic death ; and 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 305 

Mary Maloney, though she only said " Dear, dear ! " too"; I 
was sure, every word into her heart. Hugh listened atten- 
tively, and the impudent, precocious expression of manhood 
vanished entirely from his face. When I had finished, and 
rose to leave, his mother said, — 

" I must ha' felt that you was the son of a widow, this 
afternoon, when I set eyes on ye. Her blessed soul is satis- 
fied with ye this night, and ye don't need my blessin', but 
you have it all the same. Hugh ^ on't forgit ye, neither, 
will ye, Hugh?" 

" I reckon not," Hugh answeied, rather doggedly. 

I had a be"^' "^ evidence of the fact, however, when 
Christmas ca- ^.--'- ae found his way to my room before I 
was dresse ' . with an air half sheepish, half defiant, 

laid a pa ^ j on the table, saying, — 

" M^-.'' jjr says she sends you a Merry Christmas, and 
many of 'em. I 've brought an upholstery along for you. 
I made it myself." 

I shook hands and thanked him, whereupon he said, 
"All right ! " and retired. On opening the package, I 
found the " upholstery " to be a gigantic hemispherical 
pincushion of scarlet brocade, set in a gilt octagonal frame 
of equal massiveness. A nmnber of new pins, rather crook- 
edly forming the letters "J. G.," were already inserted in 
it. It was almost large enough for a footstool, and re- 
minded me of Hugh's red head every time I looked at it 
but I devoutly gave it the place of honor on my toilet 
table. 

It was the only Christmas gift I received that year. 



20 



306 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



/' CHAPTER XXIV. 

A DINNER-PARTY AT DELMONTCO's. 

I SAW very little of Penrose for some weeks after our 
first meeting. He was much occupied with his arrange- 
ments for entering the mercantile firm with the beginning 
of the coming year, and these arrangements obliged him 
to revisit Philadelphia in the mean time. Matilda — or, 
rather, Mr. Edmund Shanks — invited me to dine with 
them at the St. Nicholas, but pitched upon a day when my 
duties positively prevented my acceptance of the invita- 
tion. This was no cause of regret, for I was not drawn 
towards my cousin, and could not forgive the two fingers of 
her husband. For Penrose I retained much of the old at- 
tachment, but his nature was so difierent from mine that 
the innermost chamber of my heart remained closed at his 
approach. I doubted whether it ever would open. 

One evening in December he called upon me in Bleeck- 
er Street. However I might reason against his haughti- 
ness, his proud, disdainful air when he was absent, one 
smile from those superb lips, one gentler glance from those 
flashing eyes, disarmed me. There was a delicate flattery, 
which I could not withstand, in the fact that this demigod (in 
a physical sense), with his air of conscious power, became 
human for me, — for me, alone, of all his acquaintances 
whom I knew, laid aside his mask. Nothing made me re- 
spect myself so much as the knowledge that he respected 
me. 

" You have a very passable den, John," he remarked, 
darting a quick, keen glance around my room ; " rather a 



JOHiSr GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 807 

contrast to our bed in Dr. Dymond's garret. How singu- 
larly things turn out, to be sure ! Which of us would have 
suspected this that night when the Doctor made me share 
sheets with you ? Yet, I had a notion then that you would 
be mixed up somehow with my life." 

" You were very careful not to give me any hint of it," 
I answered, laughing. 

" I was right. Even if you are sure that an impression 
is a prophetic instinct, not a mere whim, it is best to wait 
until it proves itself. Then you are safe, in either case. 
There is no such element of weakness as superfluous frank- 
ness. I don't mean that it would have done any harm, in 
our case, but when I deliberately give myself a rule I like 
to stick to it. Only one man in a hundred will suspect that 
you have an emotion when you don't express it. You are 
thus, without any trouble, master of the ninety-nine, and 
can meet the hundredth with your whole strength." 

"Are you frank now ? " I asked. 

" John," said he, gravely, " don't, I beg of you, play at 
words with me. I will confess to you that I should become 
morally hlctse if I could not, once in a year or so, be utterly 
candid with somebody. I 'm glad you give me the chance, 
and if I recommend my rule to you, don't turn it against 
me. You are not the innocent boy I knew in Honeybrook, 
— I can see that, plainly, — but you are an innocent man, 
compared with myself. I hope there will always be this 
difference between us." 

" I can't promise that, Alexander," I said, " but I will 
promise that there shall be no other difference." 

He took my hand, gave it a squeeze, and then, resuming 
his usual careless tone, said, " By the bye, I must not for- 
get one part of my errand. Shanks is to give a little din- 
ner at Delmonico's next Saturday, — ten or a dozen persons 
in all, — and he wants you to be one of the party. Now, 
don't look so blank ; / want you to come. Matilda has 
been reading your book, and she has persuaded Shanks 



308 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

(who knows no more about poetry than he does about 
horses, though he buys both) that you are a great genius. 
You can bother him, and bring him to your feet in ten sen- 
tences, if you choose. The dinner will be something su- 
perb, — between ourselves, ten dollars ^ar convert, without 
the wine, — and I have private orders from Matilda not to 
accept your refusal, on any pretext." 

I frankly told Penrose that I did not like Shanks, but 
would accept the invitation, if he insisted upon it, rather 
than appear ungracious. I stipulated, however, that we 
should have neigbboring seats, if possible. 

When the time arrived, I took an omnibus down Broad- 
way, in no very festive humor. I anticipated a somewhat 
more solemn and stiff repetition of Mrs. De Peyster's board 
and its flat, flippant conversation. The servant conducted 
me to a private parlor on the second floor, where I found 
the host and most of the guests assembled. Matilda wel- 
comed me very cordially as " Cousin Godfrey," and Shanks 
this time gave me his whole hand with an air of deference 
which I did not believe to be real. Knowing Matilda's 
critical exactness, I had taken special pains to comply with 
the utmost requirements of custom, in the matter of dress 
and manners, and if my demeanor was a little more stiiF 
than usual, I am sure that was no disparagement in the eyes 
of the others. My apprenticeship at Mrs. De Peyster's 
table had done me good service ; I could see by Penrose's 
eyes that I acquitted myself creditably. 

The remaining guests arrived about the same time. We 
were presented to each other with becoming formality, and 
I made a mechanical effort to retain the names I heard, for 
that evening, at least. They were only important to me 
for the occasion, for I neither expected nor cared to see 
any of them again. I noticed that there were three ladies 
besides Matilda, but merely glanced at them indifferently 
until the name " Miss Haworth '>^* arrested my attention. 
Then I recollected the violet eyes, the low white brow. 



' JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 309 

5; and the rippling light-brown hair. Seeing a quick recog- 

) nition in her face, I bowed and said, " I have already had 

i the pleasure, I believe." 

At these words, a gentleman standing near her, to whom 
I had not yet been introduced, turned and looked at me 
rather sharply. She must have noticed the movement, for 
she said to me, with (I thought) a slight embarrassment in 
her tone, " My brother, Mr. Floyd." 

Mr. Floyd bowed stiffly, without offering me his hand. 
I was amazed to find that he could be the brother of Miss 
Haworth, — so different, not only in name but in feature. 
I looked at them both as I exchanged the usual common- 
places of an incipient acquaintance, and was more and more 
convinced that there could be no relationship between 
them. His face struck me as mean, cunning, and sensual ; 

I" hers frank, pure, and noble.] It was a different type of face 
from that of any woman I remembered, yet the strong im- 
pression of having once seen it before returned to my mind. 
I was surprised at myself for having paid so little attention 
to her when we first met in Mr. Clarendon's house. 

Though her voice had that calm, even sweetness which 
I have always considered to be the most attractive quality 
in woman, it was not in the least like Amanda Bratton's. 
■ Hers would have sounded thin and hard after its full, melt- 
ing, tremulous music. It belonged as naturally to the 
beauty of her lips as tint and pearly enamel to a sea-shell. 
Her quiet, unobtrusive air was allied to a self-possession 
almost beyond her years, — for she could not have been 
^ more than twenty. Though richly and fashionably dressed, 
she had chosen soft, neutral colors, without a glitter or 
sparkle, except from the sapphires in her ears and at her 
throat. I was not yet competent to feel a very enthusiastic 
admiration, but I was conscious that the sight of her filled 
me with a pleasant sense of comfort and repose. 

" Isabel," said Mrs. Shanks, tapping Miss Haworth's 
shoulder with her fan, " on a servi. Will you take Mr. 
Godfrey's arm ? " 



310 JOHN GODFREyS FORTUNES. 

I bowed and crooked my elbow, and we followed the 
other ladies into the adjoining room. The touch of the 
gloved hand affected me singularly ; I know not what soft, 
happy warmth diffused itself through my frame from that 
slight point of contact. The magnetism of physical near- 
ness never before affected me so delicately yet so power- 
fully. 

Matilda seated the guests according to her own will, and 
with her usual tact. Her brother's future partners were 
her own supporters, while Shanks was flanked by their 
wives. Miss Haworth was assigned to the central seat on 
one side of the oval table, between Penrose and myself, 
with Mr. Floyd and two other young fashionables facing us. 
The table was resplendent with cut-glass and silver, and 
fragrant with gorgeous piles of tropical flowers and fruit, 
the room dazzling with the white lustre of gas, and the ac- 
complished French servants glided to and fro with stealthy 
elegance. The devil of Luxury within me chuckled and 
clapped his hands with delight. If Life would furnish me 
with more such dinners, I thought, I might find it tolerably 
sunny. 

The dinner was a masterpiece of art. Both the natural 
harmonies and the conventional stipulations were respect- 
ed. We had oysters and Chablis, turtle-soup succeeded by 
glasses of iced punch, fish and sherry, and Kudesheimer, 
Clicquot, Burgundy, Lafitte, and liqueurs in their proper 
succession, accompanying the wondrous alternation of 
courses. Hitherto, I had been rather omniverous in my 
tastes, — only preferring good things to bad, — but now I 
perceived that even the material profession of cooking had 
its artistic ideal. 

The conversation, as was meet, ran mostly upon the 
dishes which were placed before us. Mr. Shanks devel- 
oped an immense amount of knowledge in this direction, 
affirming that he had given special directions for a single 
clove of garlic to be laid for five minutes on a plate with 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 311 

certain cotelettes en impillotes, under a glass cover ; that the 
canvas-back ducks should be merely carried through a hot 
kitchen, which was cooking enough for them ; and that the 
riz de veau would have been ruined if he had not procured, 
with great difficulty, a particular kind of pea which only 
grew in the neighborhood of Arras. The Lafitte, he said, 
was "the 'o4, — from the lower part of the hill; Delmon- 
ico won't acknowledge that he has it, unless you happen to 
know, and even then it 's a great favor to ^et a few bot- 
tles." 

" Many persons can't tell the '34 from the '46," said one 
of the partners, setting the rim of his glass under his nos- 
trils and sniffing repeatedly; « but you notice the difference 
in the bouquet." 

It really seemed to me that this voluptuous discussion 
of the viands as they appeared, — this prehminary tasting, 
this lingering enjoyment of the rare and peculiar qualities, 
this prelusive aroma of the vine, tempering yet fixing its 
flavor, — constituted an aesthetic accompaniment which bal- 
anced the physical task of the meal and called upon the 
brain to assist the stomach. I drank but sparingly of the 
wines, however, being warned by the growing flush on the 
faces of the three young gentlemen opposite, and restrained 
by the sweet, sober freshness of Miss Haworth's cheek, at 
my side. 

As the conversation grew riotous in tone, and laughter 
and repartee (mostly of a stupid character, but answering 
the purpose as well as the genuine article) ruled the table, 
my gentle neighbor seemed to encourage m.y attempts to 
withdraw from the noisy circle of talk and establish a quiet 
tete a tete between our two selves. Penrose was occupied 
with one of his partners and Matilda with the other ; Mr. 
Floyd was relating the last piece of scandal, with the cor- 
rections and additions of his neighbors, and each and all 
so absorbed in their several subjects that we were left in 
comparative privacy. 



312 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" Have you long known my cousin, Mrs. Shanks ? " I 
asked. 

" Only familiarly since last summer, when we were at 
Long Branch together. TVe had met before, in society, 
once or twice, but one never makes acquaintances in that 
way." 

" Do you think we can ever say that we are truly ac- 
quainted with any one ? " said I. 

" Why not ? " she asked, after a look in which I read a 
little surprise at the question. 

I felt that my words had been thrown to the surface from 
a hidden movement of dislike to the society present, which 
lurked at the bottom of my mind. They shot away so sud- 
denly and widely from my first question that some ex- 
planation was necessary ; yet I could not give the true one. 
She waited for my answer, and I was compelled to a partial 
candor. 

" I believe," I said, " that the word ' acquainted ' put the 
question into my head. I have been obliged to reverse my 
first impressions so often that it seems better not to trust 
them. And I have really wondered whether men can truly 
know each other." 

" Perhaps nearly as well as they can know themselves," 
said she. " When I see some little vanity, which is plain 
to every one except its possessor, I fancy that the same 
thing may very easily be true of myself" 

" You, Miss Ha worth ! " I exclaimed. 

" I as well as another. You do not suppose that I con- 
sider myself to be without faults." 

"No, of course not," I answered, so plumply and ear- 
nestly that she smiled, looking very much amused. But 
the fact is, I had made a personal application of her first 
remark, and answered for myself rather than for her. Per- 
ceiving this, I could not help smiling in turn. 

" I confess," I said, " that I have mine, but I try to con- 
ceal them from others." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 313 

" And you would be very angry if they were detected ? " 

" Yes, I think I would." 

" Yet all your friends may know them, nevertheless," 

said she, " and keep silent towards you as you towards them. 

f Do you think universal candor would be any better ? For 

( my part, I fancy it would soon set us all together by the 

( ears." 

" Just what I told you, John," said Penrose, striking in 
from the other side. \" Candor is weakness." / ^ 

" I begin to think so, too," I remarked gloomily. " De- * 
ceit seems to be the rule of the world ; I find it wherever f 
I turn. If the outside of the sepulchre shows the conven- | 
tional whitewash, it makes no difference how many skele- ( 
tons are inside." 

I took up a little glass toy which stood before me, filled, 
apparently, with green oil. It slid down my throat like a 
fiery, perfumed snake. 

" Penrose ! " cried Mr. Floyd, " is that the Chartreuse be- 
fore you ? " 

" No," said the former, turning the bottle, " it 's Cura- 
coa." 

" Ah, that reminds me," — cried Mr. Shanks, commencing 
a fresh story, which I did not care to hear. The old feel- 
ing of sadness and depression began to steal over me, and 
the loud gayety of the table became more hollow and dis- 
tasteful than ever. 

" Mr. Godfrey," said Miss Haworth, a little timidly. 

I looked up. Her clear violet eyes were fixed upon me 
with a disturbed expression, and there may have been, for 
a second, a warmer tinge on her cheek, as she addressed 
me, — 

" I am afraid you misunderstood me. I think a candid 
nature is the highest and best. I only meant that there is 
no use in constantly reminding our friends, or they us, of 
little human weaknesses. 'We may be candid, certainly, 
without ceasing to be charitable." ^ 



314 JOHN GODFKEY'S FORTUNES. 

" Yes, we may be," I said,. " but who is ? Where is there 
a nature which may be relied upon, first and forever ? I 
once thought the world was full of such, but I am cured of 
my folly." 

The trouble in her eyes deeiDcned. " I am sorry to hear 
you say so," she said, in a low voice, and began mechanically 
pulling to pieces a bunch of grapes. ^ 

My bitter mood died in an instant. I felt that my words 
were not only false in themselves, but false as the utterance 
of my belief There were, there must be, truth and honor 
in men and women ; I Avas true, and was there no other 
virtue in the world than mine ? I could have bitten my 
tongue for vexation. To retract my expressions on the 
spot, — and I now perceived how positively they had been 
made, — would prove me to be a whimsical fool, and Miss 
Haworth must continue to believe me the neoratist I seemed. 
In vain I tried to console myself with the thought that it 
made no difference. A deeper instinct told me that it did, 
— that the opinion of a pure-hearted girl was not a thing 
to be lightly esteemed. I had flattered myself on the social 
tact I had acquired, but my first serious conversation told 
me what a bungler I still was, in allowing the egotism of 
a private disappointment to betray itself and misrepresent 
my nature to another. 

Wliile these thoughts flashed through my mind, Pen- 
rose had commenced a conversation with Miss Haworth. 
Glancing around the table, I encountered Matilda's dark 
eyes. " Cousin Godfrey ! " she called to me, " how do you 
vote ? — shall we stay or go ? Edmund always sits with 
his head in a cloud, at home, and very often Aleck with 
him ; so I think if we open the door and let down the win- 
dows, the atmosphere will be endurable, — only you gen- 
tlemen generally prefer to banish us. I don 't believe it 's 
any good that you say or do when you get rid of us." 

" Stay," said I. " There will be no cloud from my lips. 
Why should you not keep your seats, and let the gentle- 
men withdraw, if there must be a division ? " 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 315 

" Gallantly spoken, cousin. But I see that Edmund has 
the consent of his neighbors, and is puffing to make up for 
lost time. I congratulate you on your wives, gentlemen : 
I thought I was the only veteran present. Isabel ! they 
are not driving you away, I hope ? " 

" Oh, no ! " said Miss Haworth, who had risen from her 
seat ; " but father is home from the Club by this time, and 
he always likes to have a little music before going to bed. 
Tracy, will you please see if the carriage is waiting ? " 

Mr. Floyd put his head out of the window and called, 
" James ! " " Here, sir ! " came up from the street, and 
Miss Haworth, giving a hand to Matilda and her husband, 
and leaving a pleasant " Good-night ! " for the rest of us, 
collectively, glided from the room. Mr. Shanks escorted 
her to her carriage. 

This little interruption was employed by the company as 
an opportunity to change their places at the table. A sign 
from Matilda called me to an empty chair beside her. 

" I 'm so glad you 're a poet, Cousin Godfrey," she said, 
— " the first in our family ; and I assure you we have need 
of the distinction to balance the mesalliance, — you know 
all about it from Aleck, though you're not near enough 
related to be hurt by it as we were. I think we shall come 
to New Yprk to live : Edmund prefers it, and one gets 
tired of Philadelphia in the long run. We have plenty of 
style there, to be sure ; but our set is very much the same 
from year to year. Here, it may be a little too free, too — 
qu^ est ce que c' est ? easy of entrance, — but there 's a deal 
more life and variety. Don't you think so ? but, of course, 
you gentlemen are never so particular. Society would fall 
into ruin, if it was n't for us." 

" It 's very well you save society, for you ruin individu- 
als," I remarked. 

" Hear that, Aleck ! " she exclaimed ; " I did n't think it 
was in him. You have certainly been giving him lessons 
in your own infidelity. He will spoil you. Cousin Godfrey." 



316 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Penrose looked at me and laughed. " I 'm glad you are 
a match for 'Till, John," he said. " If I 've taught you, the 
pupil surpasses the teacher." 

Much more of this badinage followed. My apprentice- 
ship to words and phrases gave me an advantage in the 
use of it, and I was reckless enough to care little what I 
said, so that my words had some point and brilliancy. 
Penrose was more than a match for me, but he consider- 
ately held back and allowed me to triumph over the others. 
It was as he predicted ; I brought Mr. Edmund Shanks to 
my feet in ten sentences. He called me " Cousin God- 
frey," and said, repeatedly, in a somewhat thick voice, " If 
you only smoked, you would be a trump." 

" He '11 come to that after a while ; he can't have all the 
virtues at once," remarked Mr. Floyd. I liked neither the 
tone nor the look of the man : a sneer seemed to lurk 
under his light, laughing air. He was one of the two or 
three who had lighted their cigars, and substituted brandy 
and ice for the soft, fragrant wines of Bordeaux. A sharp 
retort rose to my tongue, but I held it back from an instinct 
which told me that he would welcome an antagonism /had 
] authorized. 

It was near midnight when the guests separated, and as 
we descended in a body to the street, we found, the three 
coachmen asleep on their boxes. 

" Are you not going to get in, Aleck ? " said Matilda, as 
Penrose slammed the door. 

" No ; I am going to walk with Godfrey. Good-night ! " 
Mr. Floyd joined us, smoking his cigar, humming opera- 
tunes and commenting freely upon the company, as we 
walked up Broadway. When we reached the corner of 
Howard Street, he muttered something about an engage- 
ment, and turned off to the lefl. 

Penrose laughed as he gave utterance to certain sur- 
mises, in what seemed to me a very cold-blooded manner. 
He took my arm as he added : " I don't know that Floyd 



{ 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 317 

is any worse than most of the young New Yorkers ; but 
he 's rather a bore to me, and I 'm glad to get rid of him. 
I see so much of the class that I grow tired of it, — yet I 
suppose I belong to it myself" 

" Not in character, Alexander ! " I protested : " you have 
talent, and pride, and principle ! " 

" None too much of either, unless it be pride," he said. 
" Take care you don't overrate me. I can be intensely 
selfish, and you may discover the fact, some day. What- 
ever I demand with all the force of my nature I must 
have, and will trample down anything and anybody that 
comes between. You have only seen the mother's blood 
in me, John. There is a good deal of my father's, and it is 
bad." 

I saw the dark knitting of his brows in the lamplight, 
and strove to turn aside the gloomy introversion of his 
mood. " How is it," I asked, " that this Floyd is a brother 
ofMissHaworth?" 

" Step-brother, by marriage," he answered. " He is in 
reahty no relation. Old Floyd was a widower with one 
son when he married the widow Haworth, — some ten 
years ago, I believe: Matilda knows all about it, — and 
the boy and girl called themselves brother and sister. 
The old man has a stylish house on Gramercy Park, but 
he 's an inveterate stock-jobber, and has failed twice in the 
last five years. I suspect she keeps up the estabhshment." 

"How?" 

" She 's an heiress. Two thirds of her father's property 
were settled on her, — some hundreds of thousands, I 've 
been told. No wonder Floyd would like to marry her." 

" He ? Is it possible ? " I exclaimed. 

" That 's the gossip ; and it is possible. He is no rela- 
tion, as I have said, but I fancy she has a mind of her own. 
She seems to be a nice, sensible girl. What do you think ? 
You saw much more of her than I did." 

" Sensible, — yes," said I, slowly, for I had in fact not 



318 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

decided what I thought of her, — " so far as I could judge ; 
and almost beautiful. But her face puzzles me : I seem to 
have seen it already, yet " 

Penrose interrupted me. " I know what you mean. I 
saw it, also, and was bothered for two minutes. The 
engraving of St. Agnes, from somebody's picture, in Gou- 
pil's window. It is very like her. Here is the St. Nicho- 
las ; won't you come in ? Then good-night, old fellow, and 
a clear head to you in the morning ! " 

Yes ; that was it ! I remembered the picture, and as I 
walked homeward alone, along the echoing pavement, I 
murmured to myself, — 

" The shadows of the convent-towers 
Slant down the snowy sward, 
Still creeping vrith. the creeping hours 
That lead me to my Lord." 

r don't know what strange, poetic whim possessed me, 
that I should have made the purchase of the engraving 
my first business on Monday morning. 



JOHN GODFEEY'S FOKTUNES. 319 



CHAPTER XXV. 

CONTAINING, AMONG OTHER THINGS, MY YISIT TO THE 
ICHNEUMON. 

After the first of January, Penrose became a member 
of the firm of Dunn, Deering & Co., whose tall iron ware- 
house on Chambers Street is known to everybody. Having 
very properly determined to master the details of the busi- 
ness at the start, he was so constantly occupied that I saw 
little of him for two or three months thereafter. Mr. and 
Mrs. Shanks lingered still a few weeks before returning to 
Philadelphia, but their time was mostly devoted to up-town 
balls, which I had no wish to attend, although Matilda of- 
fered herself as godmother of my social baptism. My days 
and the greater part of my nights were appropriated, and 
by no means unpleasantly, to my business duties. Little 
by little, I found my style increasing in point and fluency, 
and the subjects assigned to my pen began to present them- 
selves in a compact, coherent form. I was proud enough 
not to accept an increase of salary without endeavoring to 
render adequate service, and thus the exertions I made re- 
warded themselves. 

In my case, Schiller's " Occupation, which never wearies 
— which slowly creates, and destroys nothing," was a help- 
ing and protecting principle, — how helpful, indeed, I was 
yet to learn. I had been wounded too deeply to wear a 
painless scar ; the old smart came back, from time to time, 
to torment me, — but my life was much more cheerful than 
I could have anticipated. My affections still lacked an 
object, constantly putting forth tendrilled shoots to wither 
in the air, but my intellectual ambition began to revive, 
though in a soberer form. I had still force enough to con- 



320 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

trol the luxurious cravings of my physical nature, — the 
thirst for all the enjoyments of sense, which increased with 
my maturing blood. When I coveted wealth, I was aware 
that it was not alone for the sake of leisure for study and 
opportunities of culture ; it was for the wine as well as the 
bread of Life. |I saw that velvet made a pleasanter seat 
than wood ; that pheasants tasted better than pork ; that a 
box at the ojDera was preferable to leaning out of a garret- 
windov/ and listening to Casta diva played on a hand-organ, 
— in short, that indulgence of every kind was more agree- 
able than abstinence. \ 

I know that many good jDCople will drav^^ down their 
brows and shake their heads when they read this confes- 
sion. But I beg them to remember that I am not preach- 
ing, nor even moralizing ; I am simply stating the facts of 
my hfe. Nay, the fact, I am sure, of most lives ; for, al- 
though I do not claim to be better, I steadfastly protest 
against being considered worse, than the average of men. 
Therefore, you good people, whose lips overflow with pro- 
fessions of duty towards your fellow-beings, and the beauty 
of self-denial, and the sin of indulgence, look, I pray you, 
into your own hearts, whether there be no root of the old 
weed remaining, — whether some natural appetite do not, 
now and then, still send up a green shoot which it costs 
you some trouble to cut off, — before weighing my youth in 
your balance. It is no part of my plan to make of myself 
an immaculate hero of romance. I fear, alas ! that I am 
not a hero in any sense. I have touched neither the deeps 
nor the heights : I have only looked down into the one and 
up towards the other, in lesser vibrations on either side of 
that noteless middle line which most men travel from birth 
to death. 

My affection for Swansford kept alive in my heaft a faint 
but vital faith in the existence of genuine emotions. I saw 
him once a week, for we had agreed to spend our Sunday 
afternoons together, alternately, in each other's rooms. He 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 321 

still disposed of an occasional song, as I of a story, but his 
great work was not completed, — had not been touched for 
months, he informed me. He was subject to fits of pro- 
found dejection, which, I suspected, proceeded from a phys- 
ical cause. He was decidedly paler and thinner than when 
I first made his acquaintance. The drudgery of his lessons 
frequently rendered him impatient and irritable, and he 
was anxious to procure a situation as organist, which would 
yield enough to support him in his humble way. I wanted 
to bring him together with Penrose, in the hope that the 
latter might be able to assist him, but feared to propose a 
meeting to two such diverse characters, and, up to this 
time, accident had not favored my plan. 

The Friday evening receptions of Mrs. Yorkton — I beg 
pardon, Adeliza Choate — continued to be given, but I did 
not often attend them. I had been fortunate enough to 
obtain entrance to the literary soirees of another lady whom 
I will not name, but whose tact, true refinement of charac- 
ter, and admirable culture drew around her all that was 
best in letters and in the arts. In her salons I saw the pos- 
sessors of honored and illustrious names ; I heard books 
and pictures discussed with the calm discrimination of in- 
telligent criticism ; the petty vanities and jealousies I had 
hitherto encountered might still exist, but they had no 
voice ; and I soon perceived the difference between those 
/ who aspire and those who achieve. /Art, I saw, has its own 
peculiar microcosm, — its born nobles, its plodding, consci- 
entious, respectable middle-class, and its clamorous, fighting 
rabble. To whatever class I might belong, I could not shut 
my eyes to the existing degrees, and much of my respect 
for the coarse assertion of Smithers, the petulant conceit 
of Danforth, and the extravagant insj^iration of the once 
adored Adeliza evaporated in the contrast. 

To Brandagee all these circles seemed to be open ; yet 
I could not help noticing that he preferred those where his 
superior experience made him at once an authority and a 
21 



322 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

fear. The rollicking devil in him was impatient of restraint, 
and he had too much tact to let it loose at inopportune times 
and places. I sometimes met him in those delightful rooms 
which no author or artist who lived in New York at that 
time can have forgotten, and was not surprised to see that, 
even in his subdued character, he still inspired a covetable 
interest. He now came to the Wonder office but seldom. 
He could never be relied upon to have his articles ready 
at the appointed time, and there had been some quarrel 
between him and Mr. Clarendon, in consequence of which 
he transferred his services to the Avenger. I had become 
such a zealous disciple of the former paper that I looked 
upon this transfer as almost involving a sacrifice of prin- 
ciple. Mr. Clarendon, however, seemed to care little about 
it, for he did not scruple still to send to Brandagee for an 
article on some special subject. 

He had at one time a scheme for publishing a small 
fashionable daily, to be devoted to the opera and the drama, 
artistic and literary criticism, the turf, dress, and other 
kindred subjects ; the type and paper to be of the utmost 
elegance, and the contents to rival in epigrammatic bril- 
liancy, boldness, and impertinence the best productions of 
the Parisian feuilletonistes. Had the wealth of many of 
the New York families been any index of their culture, the 
scheme might have succeeded, but it was too hazardous to 
entrap any publisher of sufficient means. He then deter- 
mined to repeat the attempt in a less ambitious form, — a 
weekly paper instead of a daily, — which would involve 
little preliminary expense, and might be easily dropped if 
it failed to meet expectations. It was to be called " The City 
Oracle,'' and to bear the familiar quotation from Shakspeare 
as its device. I had heard Brandagee discuss the plan 
with Mr. Withering (who decidedly objected to it, very 
much preferring a Quarterly Review), and had promised, 
incidentally, to contribute a sketch for the first number, 
if it should ever make its appearance. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 323 

Towards the close of winter, — I think it was in Feb- 
ruary, — I met Brandagee one evening, as he was issuing 
from the Smithsonian, cigar in mouth, as usual. 

" Ha ! " he exclaimed ; " I was this moment thinking of 
you. You have nothing to do at this hour, — come around 
with me to the Ichneumon. We are going to talk over 
The Oracle. Babcock has as good as promised to under- 
take the publication." 

" Indeed ? " said I. " When will you begin ? " 
" The first number ought to appear within ten or twelve 
days. That Avill leave me three weeks of the opera season, 
— long enough to make a sensation, and have the paper 
talked about. Notoriety is the life of a new undertaking of 
this kind. I can count on six pens already, including yours 
and my own. In fact, I could do the whole work alone on a 
pinch ; though I don't profess to be equal to Souville. You 
never heard of Thersite Souville, I dare say : he wrote the 
whole of Gargantua, — just such a paper as I intend to 
make my Oracle, — editorials, criticisms, gossip and feuille- 
ton ; and everybody supposed that the best intellect in Paris 
was employed upon it, regardless of expense. He was up 
to any style, but he always changed his beverage with his 
pen. For the manner of Sue, he drank hot punch ; for 
Dumas, cider mousseux ; Gautier or De Musset, absinthe ; 
Paul de Kock, Strasburg beer, — and so on. It was a great 
speculation for his publisher, who cleared a hundred and 
fifty thousand francs a year, one third of which was Sou- 
ville's share. If he had not been so vain as to blab the 
secret, he might have kept it up to this day. Come on ; 
you'll find all my coadjutors at the Ichneumon." 

" Where is the Ichneumon," I asked, " and what is it ? " 
" Not know it ! You are a green Bohemian. Close at 
hand, in Crosby Street. The name is my suggestion, and 
I 'm rather proud of it. Wlien the landlord — Miles, who 
used to be bar-tender at the ' Court of Appeals ' — took 
his new place, he was puzzled to get a title, as all the 



324 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

classic epithets, Shades, Pewter Mugs, Banks, Houses of 
Commons, Nightingales, Badgers, and Dolphins, were appro- 
priated by Others. I offered to give him a stunning name, 
in consideration of occasional free drinks. I first hit on the 
Ornithorhynchus paradoxus, which was capital; but Miles 
was fool enough to think that nobody could ever pronounce 
or remember it. Then I gave him the Ichneumon, with 
which he was satisfied, — he, as well as all Crosby Street, 
calls it ' Ike Newman.' I 've persuaded him to give us a 
backroom, and keep a bed up-stairs for any fellow^ who is 
boozy or belated. TVe shall make a classic place of it, 
and if the Oracle once fairly open its mouth, the croco- 
diles must look out for their eggs ! " 

We reached the house, almost before he had done speak- 
ing. It was an old-fashioned brick dwelling, the lower story 
of which bad been altered to suit the requirements of the 
times. An octagonal lantern, on the front glass of which 
an animal " very like a ' weasel " was painted, hung over 
the door, and through the large adjoining window thej'e 
was a spectral vision of a bar somewhere in the shadowy 
depths of the house. 

The landlord was leanino^ over the counter, talking^ to a 
group of flashy gents, as we entered. He had the unmis- 
takable succulent flesh and formless mouth of an English- 
man, but with his hair closely cropped behind, and the back 
of his neck shaved in a straight line around from ear to 
ear, like a Bowery boy. 

" Miles," said Brandagee, " another of us, — Mr. God- 
frey." 

" T'r most obedient — 'ope to see you often," said Miles, 
rising to an erect posture and giving me his hand. 

« Anybody in the Cave, Miles ? " 

" There 's three gents, Mr. Brandagee, — Smithers, for 
one, the painter chap, and the heavy gent." 

" Come on, then, Godfrey," said Brandagee, laughing. 
" It 's Ponder and Smears. I '11 bet a thousand ducats Pon- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 325 

der wants to help us out, but, between you and me, his 
didactics would be a millstone around our necks. I '11 man- 
age him. This is the way to the Cave — of Trophonius, 
you understand." 

He entered a narrow passage on the right of the bar, 
pushed open with his foot a door at the further end, and 
we found ourselves in a room of tolerable size, with a dense 
blue atmosphere which threatened to eclipse the two sickly 
gas-lights. Smithers had untied his scarlet cravat, and, 
with head thrown back over the top of his arm-chair, suf- 
fered his huge meerschaum pipe, lazily held between his 
teeth, to dangle against his hairy throat. Mr. S. Mears 
was drawing his portrait in a condition of classic nudity, on 
the margin of a newspaper, with the end of a burnt match. 
Mr. Ponder, on the other side of the table, was talking, and 
evidently in as heavy a style as he wrote. Both the latter 
were smoking. All three started up briskly in their seats 
at our entrance. 

" Ouf ! " puffed Brandagee, with an expiration of delight. 
" Well done ! This reminds me of the salon des nuages, as 
Frederic Soulie called it, in the rear of the Cafe Dore. "We 
used to hire two or three of the servants to smoke in it for 
an hour before our arrival. It was a special close commu- 
nion of our own, and there was competition to get admitted, 
though few could stand the test. Cherubini had to leave 
in a quarter of an hour, and as for Delacroix, I never saw 
a sicker man. Let us improve this atmosphere before the 
others come. Here, Godfrey, is a claro ; don 't be afraid, — 
you must commence some day." 

I lighted the cigar, and made a feint of smoking it. But 
I never could acquire any liking for the habit, and my as- 
sociates, after finding that I always spoiled an entire cigar 
in the process of burning half an inch, finally ceased to 
waste any more upon me. 

" Well, Godfrey," said Brandagee, turning to me, " since 
you are to be one of us, we '11 take your initiation fee." 



326 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" What shall it be ? " I asked. 

" Oh, we won't be hard upon you. Beer through the 
evening, with a modest bowl of punch as a stirrup-cup." 

He rang a bell as he spoke, and we were all presently 
supplied with corpulent mugs. There were two other ar- 
rivals, — one a reporter of the Avenger, the other a young 
gentleman who had a clerkship in the Custom-House and 
wrote for the magazines. I found myself more at home in 
this company than at IMrs. Yorkton's. Though there was 
rather a repellant absence of sentiment, there was, at least, 
nothing of the mock article. Nobody attempted to play a 
part, knowing the absurdity of wearing a mask behind the 
curtain, and suspecting how soon it would be torn off, if at- 
tempted. Thus the conversation, if occasionally coarse, if 
unnecessarily profane, if scoffing and depreciative of much 
that I knew to be good and noble, was always lively, racy, 
and entertaining. I surmised that my associates were not 
the best of men ; but then, on the other hand, they were 
not bores. 

The plan of the Oracle was first discussed. Each one, 
I perceived, was quite Tvdlling to dictate the best possible 
programme ; but Brandagee steadily kept before them the 
fact that he was the originator of the idea, and would resent 
dictation, while he was willing to receive suggestions. Be- 
sides, Babcock, the publisher, had not yet fully committed 
himself, and it all might end in smoke. His own specialty 
of musical and dramatic criticism was an understood mat- 
ter ; Mears was to undertake the art notices (" he paints 
badly, and therefore he is tolerably sure to write well," 
Brandagee whispered to me) ; the Avenger reporter was 
selected to prepare the city gossip, while to the clerk and 
myself was allotted the writing of short, lively stories or 
sketches of character for the first page. There now only 
remained Smithers and Ponder to be disposed of. The 
former of these informed us that he was willing to con- 
tribute passages from his " Edda of the Present," an heroic, 



JOHIT GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 327 

muscular poem, in irregular metre ; and the latter thought 
that an essay on " The Influence of Literature upon Na- 
tional Character " would be an indispensable feature of the 
new journal. 

" Not in the first number," replied Brandagee ; " that 
must be all foam and sparkle. I don't contemplate many 
heavy articles at any time. It might do for Vienna. When 
my old friend Grillparzer founded his light Sonntagshlatt, 
— something like the Oracle in form, — he began with arti- 
cles on Hegel's Philosophy, the Cretan-Doric dialect, the 
religion of the Ostiaks and a biography of Paracelsus. Lo- 
cality makes all the difference in the world. We are nearer 
the latitude of Paris than any other capital, and there, if 
anything new has a didactic smell, the public won't touch 
it." 

"But the national feeling" — commenced Mr. Ponder. 

" Very well for the rural districts ; I don't find much of 
it here. We are cosmopolitan, which is better. If I were 
beginning in Boston I would give you eight columns — four 
for the Pilgrim Fathers, and four for a description of the 
Common, as viewed from Bunker Hill Monument ; or if it 
were Philadelphia, you should write a solid article, setting 
forth the commercial decline of New York, — but here we 
care for nothing which does not bring a sensation with it. 
We are not provincial, not national, not jealous of our 
neighbors ; we live, enjoy, and pay roundly in order to be 
diverted. The Oracle must be smart, pert, hinting what 
may not properly be said outright, never behind with the 
current scandal, and brilliantly, not stupidly, impudent. 
With these qualities it can't fail to be a success. It will 
be a tongue which hundreds of people would pay well to 
keep from wagging." 

" The devil ! " exclaimed Mears ; "do you mean to make 
a black-mail concern of it ? " 

" Don't be so quick on the trigger, young man ! I merely 
referred to the power which we should hold. A thing may 



328 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

• 
be bid for, but you are not obliged to sell it. In the way 
of advertising, however, there would be great and certain 
profits ; we might enter into competition with Napoleon B. 
Quigg, or Gouraud's medicated epic. There are scores of 
retail dry-goods merchants who would give fifty dollars a 
piece to have their establishments mentioned in a novel or 
a play. I 'have a grand scheme for raising the wind, but 
I won't disclose it to you just now." 

Our mugs were replenished, and Brandagee, who seemed 
to be in the mood for a harangue, went on again. 

" There 's plenty of money in the world," he said, " if it 
were only in the right hands. Of all forms of Superstition 
which exist, that concerning money is the most absurd. 
It is looked upon as something sacred, — something above 
intellect, humanity, or religion. Yet it is an empty form 
— a means of transfer, being nothing in itself — like the 
red flame, which is no substance, only representing the 
change of one substance into another. You never really 
possess it until you spend it. T^Tiat is it to knowledge, to 
the results of experience, or the insight of genius ? But 
you come to me for advice or information which cannot be 
bought in the market, — the value of which gold cannot 
represent ; I give it and you go your way. Then I borrow 
a hundred dollars from your useless surplus ; you oblige me 
to sign a note payable in so many days, and consider me 
dishonored if I fail to meet it ! Why should I not take of 
your matter as freely as you of my spirit? Why should 
this meanest of substances be elevated to such mysterious 
reverence ? They only who turn it to the enrichment of 
their lives — who use it as a gardener does manure, for the 
sake of the flowers — have the abstract right to possess it. 
Jenkins has a million, but never buys a book or a picture, 
does n't know the taste of Burgundy, and can't tell ' Yan- 
kee Doodle ' from ^11 mio tesoro ' — does that money belong 
to him ? No, indeed, — it is mine, ours, everybody's who 
understands how to set it in motion and bring the joy and 
the beauty of life bubbling up to the surface ! " 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 329 

" Bravo ! " cried the others, evidently more than half in- 
clined to be of the same way of thinking. I did not sup- 
pose that Brandagee was entirely in earnest, but I was fas- 
cinated by the novelty of his views, and unable, at the time, 
to detect wherein they were unsound. 

" Do you know, fellows," he continued, " that our lives 
are far more in accordance with the pervading spirit of 
Christianity than those of the men who devote themselves 
to earning and hoarding ? We are expressly commanded 
to take no thought for the morrow. There is nowhere in 
the Bible a commendation of economy, of practical talent, 
even of industry in a secular sense. It was so understood 
in the early ages of * Christianity, and the devotees whQ 
adopted lazy contemplation as a profession never starved to 
death. Perhaps they lived better than the contemporary 
men of business. I don't mean that their ways would suit 
us, but then they lived out their own idea, and that 's all we 
can do. Work, and the worry that comes with it, are relics 
of paganism. The stupid masses always were, and will be, 
pagans, and it was meant that they should labor in order to 
give leisure to what little intelligence there is in the world. 
If they are stiff-necked and rebellious, I hold that there is 
no particular harm in using our superior cunning to obtain 
what justly belongs to us. Suppose they make an outcry ? 
Of course they look at the subject from their, which is the 
lower, the pagan point of view. Pagans, you are aware, 
have no rights which elected Christians are bound to re- 
spect." 

Brandagee had trenched, before he was aware of it, on 
the favorite hobby of Smithers. The latter began to puff 
furiously at his meerschaum, now and then snorting the 
smoke from his nostrils in long blue lines. 

" It 's a bit of adroit sophistry ! " he exclaimed. " These 
pagans, as you call them, with their strong bones, their 
knotted muscles, their thick cerebellums and their cast-iron 
stomachs, are the very men who understand how to use life. 



330 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

They could soon crush out your scanty breed of forced and 
over-refined Epicureans, if they cared to do it : you should 
be glad that they suffer you to exist. What you call work 
is only the sportive overplus of their colossal energy. If 
they did not keep alive the blood of the race, which you 
are trying all the while to exhaust, there would soon be, 
not only an end of Art and Literature, but an end of Man 
on this planet ! " 

" Smithers," said Brandagee, coolly, " if you would take 
a little more of the blood that circulates in your big body 
and send it in the direction of your brains, you would see 
that you have not come within a mile of meeting my asser- 
tion. I take you as my living verification. You like work 
no better than the rest of us, and you mix with your steve- 
dores and sailors and 'longshoremen only to exploit them 
in your ' Edda.' I have often seen you, sitting on a pier- 
head with your pipe in your mouth, but I don't believe that 
' the sportive overplus of your colossal energy ' ever incited 
you to handle a single bale or barrel. I don't object to 
your hobby : it 's a good one to ride, so far as the public is 
concerned, but we, here in the Cave, understand each other, 
I take it." 

Smithers began to grow red about the gills, and would 
have resented the insinuation, but for the opportune arrival 
of Miles, bearing a curiously-shaped vessel of some steam- 
ing liquid and fresh glasses. The interest which these 
objects excited absorbed the subject of debate. Mears 
threw himself into a statuesque attitude and exclaimed in a 
Delphic voice, " The offering is accepted; " while Branda- 
gee chanted, — 

" Fill the cup and fill the can, 
Have a rouse before the morn," 

and all shoved their glasses together under the nose of the 
ladle. 

" Here, Godfrey," said Brandagee, striking his glass 
against mine, "welcome and acceptance from the mystic 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 331 

brotherhood ! Here you have your money, as I was ex- 
plaining : it has taken form at last, instead of lying, as a 
dry idea, in the pocket. I hold that we have the right to 
seize on shadows wherever we find them, for the sake of 
converting them into substance. Hence, if a man thinks I 
am taking away his shadow, in the Peter Schlemihl sense, 
let him apply the law of similia similihus, and parting with 
another shadow shall give him peace of mind. This you. 
Smears, would call levying black-mail. But you artists 
always take the gross, material view of things, — it belongs 
to you. The senses of Color and Form are not intellectual 
qualities. Never mind, I mean no disparagement. The 
value of mind is that it teaches us how to make the right 
use of matter ; so we all come back to the same starting- 
point." 

The conversation now became general and noisy, and I 
will not undertake to report it further. In fact, I have but 
an indistinct recollection of what followed, except that 
some time after midnight we parted affectionately at the 
corner of Spring Street and Broadway. The next morn- 
ing I arose heavy in head, but light in purse, — so much 
lighter that I suspect the punch-bowl was filled more than 
once in the course of the evening. 

Various impediments prevented The Oracle from ap- 
pearing before the close of the opera season, and the plan 
was therefore suspended until the next fall. But the Cave 
of Trophonius still existed, under the guardianship of the 
Ichneumon, and I often seized an hour to enjoy forget^ 
fulness of the present, in the lawless recklessness of the 
utterance to which it was dedicated. 



332 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTEE XXVI. 

IN WHICH I TALK WITH TWO GIRLS AT A VERY SOCIA- 
BLE PARTY. 

I HAVE said that I still felt but little inclination to min- 
gle in society, although I might easily have found opportu- 
nities. I fancy, however, that this reluctance was more 
imaginary than real : it belonged to the soberer role which 
I had chosen in the great drama. I could not quite justify 
my participation in the gayeties of the season to that spirit 
of sterij indifference which I ought, logically, to have pre- 
served. My nature, however, was not so profound as I 
supposed, and when once I was led to forget myself in the 
presence of others, I speedily developed a lively capacity 
for enjoyment. More than once Twent slowly and moodily 
to a scene, whence I returned with buoyant, dancing spirits. 
jWhenever I thought of Amanda Bratton, a feeling of con- 
gratulation at my escape tempered the bitterness of the 
memory, and I began to believe again (hardly admitting to 
myself that I did so) in the purity of woman and the honor 
of man. 

The remembered expression of Miss Haworth's eyes 
troubled me, and I longed for an opportunity of presenting 
myself to her in a more correct light. It was some time 
before such an opportunity occurred. I passed her once 
on Broadway, on a sunny afternoon, and sometimes saw 
her through the window of a carriage, but nearly three 
months elapsed before I was able to speak to her again. 
Mr. Deering, with whom I had made a slight acquaintance 
during the dinner at Delmonico's, invited me to call " very 



JOHN GODFREY'S F0RTU2!^ES. 333 

sociably" at his house in Fourteenth Street, on a certain 
evening. I accepted, mainly because I expected to find 
Penrose there, and, as my duties required me to leave 
early, made my appearance precisely at the appointed hour. 
In this respect I was misled by the words " very sociably," 
for no other guests had yet arrived, and the rooms were 
decorated as if for a ball. I experienced a foolish sensa- 
tion for a moment, as I stood alone in the strong light of 
gas and the glitter of gilding, but Mrs. Deering did not 
leave me long in waiting. With her entered, t9 my sur- 
prise, MissJIaworth. 4^ i^^ ' >-4, ;^. f . t ;w'; "^"^ 

Mrs. Deering was a frail-looking woman, with large dark 
eyes, and pale, melancholy, interesting face. She received 
me with perfect grace, and a kindly, winning air,' which 
seemed — I knew not why — to ask for sympathy. At any 
rate, I gave it, and still I knew not why. In greeting Miss 
Haworth I offered her my hand, forgetting that my slight 
acquaintance hardly warranted me in assuming the signs 
of familiarity ; but she took it with a natural, simple cour- 
tesy, in which there was no trace of mere conventional 
politeness. We seated ourselves at the bottom of the 
apartment, and I had ample time to overcome the first for- 
mal stages of conversation before the next arrival. The 
hostess and Miss Haworth were evidently familiar, if not 
intimate friends ; they called each other " Fanny " and 
"Isabel," and frequently referred to mutual experiences 
and mutual impressions, I saw that both were amiable, 
cultivated, refined women. The point of difference seemed 
to be in character — in a certain gentle, reliant, hesitating 
quality in Mrs. Deering, and its latent opposite in Miss 
Haworth — for I did not think the latter old enough for 
marked development. Nevertheless, through all her maid- 
enly sweetness and simplicity, I felt the existence of a firm, 
heroic spirit. Her pure, liquid voice could under no cir- 
cumstances become shrill or hard, but its music might ex- 
press a changeless resolution. Some sense within me, 



334 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

underlying the surface of my talk, continually contrasted 
her with Amanda Bratton. The consciousness of it an- 
noyed me, but I could not escape from the perverse spirit. 

Finally, Mrs. Deering rose and advanced to receive the 
coming guests, and we were left alone. My thoughts went 
back to our conversation at the dinner, and I longed for the 
tact to bring it up naturally. I introduced Matilda Shanks, 
— a subject soon exhausted ; then Penrose, and here a 
happy thought came to my aid. I had become not only 
unembarrassed, but frank, and, almost before I knew it, 
had described the manner in which we had discovered our 
relationship. 

" I had hardly liked him before that," I said. " I had 
thought him haughty, cold, and almost incajDable of affec- 
tion — but this was only the outside. He was truly happy 
to find that we were kin, although I was at that time a raw 
country-boy, far below him in everything. Since then, we 
have learned to know each other tolerably well. He is so 
handsome that I am very glad I can honestly esteem him." 

I saw a light like a smile in Miss Haworth's eyes, but it 
did not reach her lips. " He is strikingly handsome," she 
said, " but it is not a face that one can read easily." 

" I think I like it all the better for that," I answered. 
" It keeps up one's interest ; there are so many surprises, 
as you discover new traits." 

" If they were always agreeable surprises." 

" I have found them so, in his case." 

" You are fortunate, then," said she. Her tone was calm 
and passionless, and I detected no reason for my suspicion 
that she did not like Penrose. It almost seemed as if we 
had changed characters, — as if now the faith were on my 
sid^ and the distrust on hers. I presently shook off this 
impression as absurd, and attempted to introduce my ex- 
planation before the new guests should interrupt us. 

" I think .my cousin frequently does injustice to himself," 
I said. " He is fond of proclaiming a hard, unsympathetic 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 335 

view of life, which does not correspond with his practice. 
I was at one time in danger of imitating him, because every- 
thing did not go according to my wishes. I can't quite 
recall the words I used in my talk with you at the dinner," 
(this was false — I knew them every one,) " but I am sure 
they did not express my true sentiments. I had rather be 
thought inconsistent than cynical." "^"" 

"So would I!" she exclaimed, with a merry laugh. 
f " Consistency is a jewel, you know, but the color of it don't 
! happen to suit my complexion. I am heterodox enough to 
I dislike the word ; to me it signifies something excessively 
: stiff, prim, and tiresome." 

I was relieved, but a little surprised, at such an unex- 
pected latitude of opinion in Miss Plaworth. 

" It dates from my school-days in Troy," she continued, 
by way of explanation. " Our teacher in Moral Philosophy 
had a habit of saying, — 'Be consistent, girls ! ' on every 
possible occasion. We all decided that if she was an ex- 
ample of it, consistency was a disagreeable quality, and I 
am afraid that we tried to get rid of what little we had, 
instead of cultivating it. I like a character upon which 
one can depend, but we may honestly change our views." 

" Then," said I, " there are also such differences in our 
moods of feeling. We change like the scenery of land or 
sea, through green, gray, blue and gold, according to the sun 
and the clouds. You are right; the same tints forever 
would be very tiresome ; but we should not half possess 
our opinions, if we were always conscious that we might 
soon change them for others." 

" I wish Mrs. Deering had heard you say that. We were 
looking at a new dress of hers just before you came. There 
was a mixture of colors in it, which, I knew, had only 
caught her eye by its novelty, and the effect would soon 
wear off. But when I said so, she put her hand on my 
mouth, and pleaded, — ' Please don't say a word against it ; 
let me like it as long as I can.' I laughed and called her 
a child, as she is in her frankness and gentleness." 



yi/TTK**^" 



336 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" She is a very lovely woman," I said, " but there is some- 
thing about her which seems to call for help or sympathy. 
I do not understand it." 

" Is it so paljjable ? " asked Miss Haworth, in a low voice, 
as if speaking to herself. The approach of other g-uests 
interrupted our conversation, and I had no chance of re- 
suming it during the evening, although we frequently crossed 
each other's paths, and exchanged a few words. The " very 
sociable " entertainment was something more than a recep- 
tion and something less than a ball. Most of the guests 
came in full dress, and I was very glad that I had profited 
by a hint which Brandagee had once let fall. "In New 
York," said he, "it is always safer to over-dress than to 
under-dress. The former is looked upon as a compliment 
to the hosts, and no excuse is ever accepted for the latter." 
The young ladies were all decolletees, and their bright heads 
rose out of wonderful folds and cloudy convolutions of white 
mist, which followed with soft rustling noises the gliding 
swing of their forms. I was leaning on the narrow end of 
the grand piano, listlessly watching them as they moved 
through the figures of a quadrille, when Mrs. Deering sud- 
denly addressed me with, — \^ 

" Don't you dance, Mr. Godfrey ? " 

" Sometimes," I answered ; " but I think I enjoy seeing 
dancing even more. Somebody says, if one would stop his 
ears and shut out the music, one would find the movements 
of the dancers simply ridiculous. I can imagine that this 
might be true of the gentlemen, — but, certainly, not of the 
ladies." 

" Are we so much more graceful ? " she asked. 

" No," ^aid I, with plump sincerity ; " it is rather the ad- 
vantage of dress, — the difference between drapery, which 
falls, into flowing and undulating lines, and a close shell, 
like that of a tortoise. Besides the shell is black, which 
robs it of light and shade. Suppose the gentlemen wore 
Roman togas, — white, with a border of purple, or blue and 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 337 

silver, or crimson and gold, — don't you think the effect 
would be immensely improved ? " 

" I must confess the idea never entered my head. You 
must give me time to think about it, before I can ansAver. 
It is something new to hear a gentleman speak for the 
beauty of his sex ; we are generally allowed the monopoly 
of that." 

I felt embarrassed, and there was an unpleasant sense of 
heat in my face, which increased as I encountered Miss 
Haworth's laughing, expectant eyes. She was standing near, 
and must have heard the whole conversation. 

" If I thought myself handsome," I said, at last, " I 

should never lay myself open to such a charge ; but it gives 

me pleasure to see beauty, Mrs. Deering, whether in woman 

or man, and I do not understand why custom requires that 

^ one sex should help it with all possible accessories and the 

'\ other disguise it." 

" Oh, you men don't really need it," began Mrs. Deering. 
" You have courage and energy and genius." — Here she 
stopped, turned pale, and after a little pause, added with a 
gayety not altogether natural ; " Shall I find you a partner 
for the next quadrille ? " 

I assented, thinking of Miss Haworth, but Mr. Deering 
canie up at that moment and secured her. Mrs. Deering 
laid her hand on my arm, and we began to thread the dis- 
entangling groups as the music ceased. The elegant young 
gentlemen were already dodging to and fro, and taking their 
places in anticipation of the next dance : the blooming, 
girlish faces were snatched away as we approached them, 
and Mrs. Deering, with a little laugh at our ill-fortune, 
said, " I must pick out the best of the wall-flowers, after 
all, — ah ! here is one chance yet ! " 

A moment after, I found myself face to face with — Miss 
Levi! 

" Mr. Godfrey wishes for the pleasure," — Mrs. Deering 
began to say, by way of presentation and request. 
22 



338 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" Now, Mr. Godfrey ! " exclaimed Miss Levi, jumping up 
and giving me a smart rap with her sandal-wood fan, — " you 
know you don't deserve it ! You would never have seen 
me without Mrs. Deering's help, — and if I accept you, it 's 
for her sake only. He 's as false and heartless as he can 
be, Mrs. Deering ! " 

If my thought had been expressed in words, I am afraid 
there would have been a profane verb before Miss Levi's 
name. I was exasjDerated by the unexpected encounter, 
and less than ever disposed to hear her flippant, affected 
chatter, to which I had responded so often that I was power- 
less to check it now. As we took our places on the floor, 
and she spread the scarlet leaves of her fan over the 
lower part of her face, her jet-black eyes and hair shining 
at me above them, I thought of the poppy-flower, and the 
dark, devilish spirit of the drug which feeds it. I tried to 
shake off" the baleful, narcotic influence which streamed 
from her, and which seemed to increase in proportion as I 
resisted it. By a singular chance, Mr. Deering and Miss 
Haworth were our vis-a-vis. I had scarcely noticed this, 
when the preliminary chords of the quadrille were struck, 
and the first figure commenced. 

" Confess to me, now, Mr. Godfrey," said Miss Levi, when 
our turn came to rest, " that you are as false in literature as 
you are in love. You have not been at Mrs. Yorkton's for 
ever so long." 

" I am false to neither," I answered, desperately, " for I 
believe in neither." 

" Oh, I shall become afraid of you." I knew her eyes 
were upon my face, but I steadily looked away. " You are 
getting to be misanthropic, — Byronic. Of course there 
is a cause for it. It is she who is false ; pardon my heartless 
jesting ; I shall never do so again. But you never thought 
it serious, did you ? I always believed in your truth as I do 
in your genius." 

The last sentences were uttered in a low, gentle, confi- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 339 

dential tone, and the fingers that lay upon my arm closed 
tenderly around it. I could not help myself: I turned my 
head and received the subdued, sympathetic light of the 
large eyes. • 

"You are mistaken, Miss Levi," I said; "there is no 
* she ' in the case, and there will not be." 

" Never ? " It was only a whisper, but I despair of rep- 
resenting its peculiar intonation. It set my pulses trem- 
bling with a mixture of sensations, in which fear was pre- ' 
dominant. I dimly felt that I must somehow disguise my 
true nature from this woman's view, or become her slave. 
I must prevaricate, lie, — anything to make her believe me 
other than my actual self. 

The commencement of the second figure relieved me 
from the necessity of answering her question. When we 
had walked through it, and I was standing beside her, she 
turned to me and said, — 

" Well ? " 

" Well ? " I echoed. 

" You have not answered my question." 

I summoned all the powers of dissimulation I possessed, 
looked her full in the face with an expression of innocence 
and surprise, and answered, " What question ? " 

Her dark brows drew together for an instant, and a rapid 
glance hurled itself against my face, as if determined to 
probe me. I bore it with preternatural composure, and, 
finding she did not speak, repeated, " What question ? " 

She turned away, unaware that something very like a 
scowl expressed itself on her profile, and muttered, — 

" It is of no consequence, since you have forgotten it." 

My success emboldened me to go a step further, and not 
merely defend myself, but experiment a little in offensive 
tactics. 

" Oh, about being false to literature ? " I said. " You 
probably thought I was pledged to it. .That is not so ; 
what I have done has been merely>a"di version. Having 



^ 



340 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

attempted, of course it would not be pleasant to fail ; but 
there is no great satisfaction in success. With your knowl- 
edge of authors, Miss Levi, you must be aware that they 
cannot be called either a happy or a fortunate class of 
men ! " 

Again she scrutinized my face, — this tune over her fan. 
I was wonderfully calm and earnest : there is no hypocrisy 
equal to that of a man naturally frank. 

" I am afraid it is true," she answered, at last. " But 
there are some exceptions, and, with your genius, you might 
be one of them, Mr. Godfrey." 

" If my ' genius,' as you are pleased to call it," I said, 
" can give me a house like this, and large deposits in the 
banks, I shall be very much obliged to it. I should much 
rather have splendor than renown : would n't you ? " 

Looking across the floor I met lliss Haworth's eyes, and 
although she turned them away at once, I caught a glimpse 
of the quiet, serious observance with which' they had rested 
upon me. I rejoiced that she could not have heard my 
words. The game I had been playing suddenly became 
distasteful. Mss Levi's answer showed that she had fallen 
into the snare ; that her enthusiasm for literature and liter- 
ary men was a shallow affectation, which I might easily 
have developed further, but I took advantage of the move- 
ments of the dance to change the subject. When the 
quadrille was finished, I conducted her to a seat, bowed, 
and left her almost too precipitately for courtesy. 

Li the mean time Penrose had arrived. I had not seen 
him for some weeks, and we were having a pleasant talk in 
a corner of the room when Mrs. Deering, in her arbitrary 
character of hostess, interrupted us, by claiming him for 
presentation to some of her friends. 

" The partnership is social as well as commercial, is it ? " 
said he. " Then I must go, John." 

An imp of mischief prompted me to say to Mrs. Deer- 
ing, " Latroduce him to Miss Levi. Dance with her, if you 



JOHN. GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 341 

can, Alexander; I want to hear your impression of her 
beauty." 

" Oh, ho ! " he exclaimed, " is she the elected one ? By 
all means. I shall try to find her bewitching, for your 
sake." 

" Alexander ! " I cried. But the twain were already 
moving away, Mrs. Deering looking back to me with a gay, 
significant smile. I was provoked at myself, and at Pen- 
rose. I had honestly wished, for my own satisfaction, to 
subject Miss Levi to the test of his greater knowledge of 
the world, his sharp, merciless dissection of character. Per- 
haps I thought he could analyze the uncanny, mysterious 
power which she possessed. But the interpretation he had 
put upon my words spoiled ^he plan. And Mrs. Deering, 
I feared, had accepted that interpretation only too readily. 
Could she really believe that I was attracted towards Miss 
Levi ? If so, and she mentioned the discovery to Miss 
Haworth, what must the latter think of me ? She, too, had 
noticed the intunate character of our conversation during 
the dance ; yet she could not, must not be allowed to mis- 
understand me so shockingly. I worried myself, I have no 
doubt, a great deal more than was necessary. My surmises 
involved no compliment to the good sense of the two ladies, 
and the excitement they occasioned in my mind was incon- 
sistent with the character I had determined to assume. 

I looked around for Miss Haworth before leaving the 
parlor. She was seated at the piano, playing one of 
Strauss's airy waltzes, while the plain, weary-looking gov- 
erness, who had been performing for the two previous 
hours, was taking a rest and an ice on the sofa. Among 
the couples which revolved past me were Penrose and Miss 
Levi, and there was a bright expression of mischief in the 
former's eye as it met mine. 

I went down town to my midnight duties in the ofiice of 
the Won^^er, very much dissatisfied with myself. It seemed 
that I had stupidly blundered during the whole evening, 



342 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

and had made my position worse than it was before in the 
eyes of the only woman whom I was anxious to please. The 
latter fact was now apjoarent to my consciousness, and when 
I asked myself " Why ? " there was no difficulty in finding 
reasons. She was handsome ; she resembled St. Agnes ; I 
believed her to be a pure, true, noble-hearted girl. 
Then I asked myself again, '' Anything more ? " 
And as I stepped over the booming vaults, in which the 
great iron presses of the Wonder revolved at the rate 
of twenty thousand copies per hour, and mounted to the 
stifling room where the reports on yellow transfer-paper 
awaited me, I shook my head and made answer unto my- 
self, " No ; nothing more ! " 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 343 



CHAPTER XXVn. 

WHICH SHOWS THAT THERE WAS SOMETHING MORE. 

My ill-humor extended over several days, and even 
showed itself in my professional duties. I don't suppose 
that the blustering March weather of New York was ever 
so savagely and bitterly described as in some of my articles 
at that time. I wrote a hideously ironical sonnet to Spring, 
which some country editor maliciously copied, side by side 
with Bryant's poem on " March," bidding his readers con- 
trast the serene, cheerful philosophy expressed in the 
lines, — 

" But in thy sternest frown abides 
A look of kindly promise yet — " 

with " the spleenful growling of Mr. J. Godfrey," contempt- 
uously adding, " whoever he may be." 

This latter castigation, however, came back to me at a 
time when I could laugh over it, and acknowledge that it 
was deserved. It was not lono^ before the fact recurred to 
my mind that Custom required me to call upon Mrs. Deer- 
ing, and, admitting that Custom sometimes makes very sen- 
sible and convenient arrangements, I consoled myself with 
the prospect of soon knowing how far Penrose had impli- 
cated me. 

Mrs. Deering received me with the same winning, mel- 
ancholy grace, which, from the first, had inspired me with 
a respectful interest. We conversed for some tune, and, 
as she made no allusion to Miss Levi, I was obliged to in- 
troduce the subject, " butt-end foremost." 

" I saw that you presented Penrose to Miss Levi," I said. 



344 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" Of course you did n't believe his jesting, when I asked 
you to do so ? " 

" Oh, no," she answered, with a smile ; " I am accustomed 
to that sort of badinage among gentlemen. There was 
some joking about it afterwards between Mr. Penrose and 
Miss Haworth." 

" Good heavens ! " I exclaimed, quite startled out of my 
propriety ; " Miss Haworth, I hope, does not suppose it to 
be true ? " 

Mrs. Deering's eyes rested on my face a moment, with a 
sweet, gentle interest. " I do not think she does," she 
presently remarked : " it was Mr. Floyd, her step-brother, 
who seemed to be most interested. He asked Mr. Penrose 
to introduce him also to Miss Levi." 

" It is too bad ! " I cried, in great vexation : " what shall 
I do to contradict this ridiculous story ? " 

" Pray give yourself no uneasiness, Mr. Godfrey. I will 
contradict it for you, should I hear anything of it, but I 
really imagine that it has already been forgotten." 

I gave her grateful thanks and took my leave, somewhat 
comforted, if not quieted in spirit. 

A few days afterwards I received a little note from her 
inviting me to tea. I wrote a line of acceptance at once, and 
gladly, surmising that she had something to tell me, — feel- 
ing, quite sure, at least, that I should hear of Miss Haworth. 
But I did not venture to anticipate the happiness which 
awaited me. Miss Haworth, whether by accident or through 
Mrs. Deering's design, was present. There were also two 
or three other guests, who, as they have no concern with 
the story of my life, need not be particularized. Before we 
were summoned to the tea-table, Mrs. Deering found an 
opportunity to whisper to me, — 

" Make yourself quite easy, Mr. Godfrey. It was all 
taken as a jest." 

I knew that she referred to Miss Haworth, and felt that 
any reference to the subject, on my part, would be unnec- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 345 

essary. I was at once reconciled to the vexation which had 
procured me another interview with her, and in the genial, 
unconstrained atmosphere of the small company, became 
my own frank, light-hearted self, as Nature designed me to 
be. Our acquaintance ripened apace : we conversed, dur- 
ing the evening, on books and music, and men and their 
ways, developing, not always accordant views, but an in- 
creasing freedom in the utterance of them. I was still too 
ignorant of the change that was going on in my feelings to 
be timid or embarrassed in her presence, and my eyes con- 
stantly sought hers, partly because I was absorbed in the 
beauty of their dark-violet hue, and partly because they 
never shunned my gaze, but met it with the innocent direct- 
ness of a nature that had nothing to conceal. ^ Naturalists 
say that an object steadily looked at in a strong light, pro- 
duces an impression upon the retina which remains and re- 
produces the image for hours afterwards. I am sure this 
is true ; for those eyes, that rippled golden hair, that full, 
sweet mouth and round, half-dimpled chin, haunted my 
vision from that time forth. When I close my eyes, I can 
still see them. 

My enjoynient of the evening would have been perfect 
but for the appearance of Mr. Tracy Floyd, who dropped 
in at a late hour to escort his step-sister home. We were 
sitting together, a little apart from the rest of the company, 
when he entered, and I could see that his face assumed no 
very friendly expression as he noticed the fact. After greet- 
ing the hostess and the other guests, he turned towards us. 

" Bell, I have come for you," he said. " Ah, Mr. God- 
frey, how do you do ? Are you to be congratulated ? " 

" No ! " I exclaimed, with a quick sense of anger, the 
expression of which I could not entirely suppress. 

" Very complimentary to you, Bell ! Rather a decided 
expression of distaste for your society." 

"That was not what you meant," I said, looking him 
steadily in the eye. 



346 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

He avoided my gaze, laughed, and said he was sorry I 
did n't seem to understand a joke. There was a heightened 
color in Miss Haworth's face, as she replied to a previous 
remark of mine, but in no other way did she notice what 
had passed between her step-brother and myself. Pres- 
ently she rose to accompany him, giving me her hand 
frankly and kindly as she said good-night. I took leave 
of Mrs. Deering very soon after her departure. 

I postponed all reflection — all examination of the con- 
fused, shining sensations which filled my heart — until my 
work was done, and I could stretch myself in the freedom 
and freshness of my bed. There was too much agitation 
in my blood for sleep. At first I left the gas-burner alight, 
that I might see, from my pillow, the picture of St. Agnes 

— but presently arose and turned out the flame. The color, 
the life, and spirit of the face in my memory made the en- 
graving tame. I admitted to myself the joy of Isabel Ha- 
worth's presence, with a thrill of ecstasy, which betrayed to 
me at once towards what shore this new current was set- 
ting. At first, it is true, there was an intrusive conscious- 
ness, not precisely of inconstancy, but of something very 
like it — of shallow-heartedness, in so soon recovering from 
a hurt which I had considered mortal ; but it was speedily 
lost in the knowledge, which now came to me, of the growth 
of my nature since the days of that boyish delusion. I sud- 
denly became aware of the diflerence between sentiment 
and passion. My first attachment was shy, timid, dreamy, 

— shrinking away from the positive aspects of life. It 
flattered my vanity, because I looked upon it as an evidence 
of manhood, but it had not directly braced a single fibre of 
my heart. This, on the contrary, filled me, through and 
through, with a sharp tingle of power : it dared to contem- 
plate every form of its realization ; were its blessing but 
assured, I should proudly proclaun it to the world. Its 
existence once recognized, I took it swiftly into every cham- 
ber of my being : my kindled unagination ran far in ad- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 347 

Vance of the primitive stage of my experience, and before 
I fell asleep I had almost persuaded myself that the fortune 
of my life was secured. 

I have said but little of Miss Haworth, because, up to 
this time, I had seen so little of her. My love was half 
instinct, — the suspicion of a noble and steadfast character 
which was yet unproved. She did not seem to be consid- 
ered, in society, a marked beauty ; she rather evaded than 
courted observation, — but I felt that she was one of those 
women whom one would like to meet more frequently in 
what is called "fashionable" society, — of faultless, social 
culture, yet as true and unspoiled as the simplest country 
maiden. It was no shame to love her without the hope of 
return. Indeed, I admitted to my own heart that I had no 
right to any such hope. Wliat could she find in me ? — 
she, to whom the world was open, who doubtless knew so 
many men more gifted in every way than myself ! Never- 
theless, I should not tamely relinquish my claim. I might 
have to wait for a long time, — to overcome obstacles which 
would task my whole strength, — but she was too glorious a 
prize to sit down and sigh for while another carried her off. 

All this occurred in the first thrill of my discovery. I 
could not always feel so courageous ; the usual fluctuations 
of passion came to cheer or depress me. I could only de- 
pend on seeing her, through accidental opportunities, and 
my employment prevented me from seeking to increase 
them. Often, indeed, I hurried through my afternoon du- 
ties in order to prolong my walk up Broadway, in the hope 
of meeting her, but this fortune happened to me but twice. 
One evening, however, at Wallack's, a little incident oc- 
curred which kept me in a glow for weeks afterwards. Mr. 
Severn had given me two of the complimentary tickets sent 
to the Wonder office, and I took Swansford with me, de- 
lighted with the chance of sharing my recreation with him. 
We selected seats in the parquet, not too near the brass in- 
struments ; his ear suffered enough, as it was, from the lit- 



348 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

tie slips and false notes which were inaudible to me. Look- 
ing around the boxes at the end of the first act, my heart 
gave a bound on seeing Miss Haworth, in company with 
an unknown lady and gentleman. She wore a pale lilac 
dress, with white flowers in her hair, and looked unusually 
lovely. They were conversing cheerfully together, and I 
could study the perfect self-possession of her attitude, the 
grace of her slightest movements, without being observed. 

Having made this discovery, I had thenceforth but half 
an eye for the play. My seat, fortunately, was nearly on a 
line with the box in which she sat, and I could steal a glance 
by very slightly turning my head. Towards the close of 
the second act, an interesting situation on the stage ab- 
sorbed the attention of the audience, and feeling myself 
secure, I gazed, and lost myself in gazing. The intensity 
of my look seemed to draw her palpably to meet it. She 
slowly turned her head, and her eyes fell full ujDon mine. 
I felt a sweet, wonderful heart-shock, as if our souls had 
touched and recognized each other. What my eyes said to 
her I could not guess, — nor what hers said to me. My 
lids fell, and I sat a moment without breathing. When I 
looked up, her face was turned again towards the stage, but 
a soft flush, " which was not so before," lingered along her 
cheek and throat. 

I might have visited the box during the entr'acte, but 
my thoughts had not yet subsided into a sufiiciently practi- 
cal channel. The ]3lay closed with the third act, and at its 
close the party left. Once more our glances met, and I had 
sufficient courage to bow my recognition, which she re- 
turned. I had no mind, however, to wait through the farce, 
and hurried off" Swansford, who was evidently surprised at 
my impatient, excited manner, following so close on a fit 
of (for me) very unusual taciturnity. I answered his com- 
ments on the play in such a manner that he exclaimed, as 
we reached the street, — 

" Wliat is the matter with you, Godfrey ? You don't 
seem to have your senses about you to-night." 



JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 349 

^ I laughed. " I am either the blindest of bats, the stu- 
pidest of owls," I said, " or my senses are miraculously 
sharpened. I have seen either all, or nothing, — but no, 
it must, it shall be all ! " 

I caught hold of Swansford's arm and hurried him alono- 
with me. As we passed a corner lamp-post, he looked at 
my face in the light with a puzzled, suspicious expression, 
which moved me to renewed mirth. He was as far as pos- 
sible from guessing what was the matter with m.e. 

" Here is Bleecker Street," said I. " Come up to my 
room, old fellow, and you shall judge whether I am a fool 
or not." 

He complied mechanically, and we were presently seated 
in opposite arm-chairs, before the smouldering grate. I 
gave hun a glass of Sherry, — a bottle of which fkept on 
purpose for his visits, — and when I saw that he looked re- 
freshed and comfortable, began my story in an abrupt, in- 
direct way. 

" Swansford," I asked, "can a man love twice ? "J 

" I do not knov/," he answered sadly, after a pause, " I 

could not." But he lifted his face towards me with a quick, 
lively interest, which anticipated my confession. 

I began at the beginning, and gave him every detail of 
my acquaintance with Miss Haworth, — the dinner at Del- 
monico's, the glimpses in the street, the " very sociable " 
party at Mr..Deering's, the invitation to tea, and finally the 
meeting of our eyes that very evening. There was no shy- 
ness in my heart, although I knew that the future might 
never give form to its desires. 

" That is all," I concluded, " and I do not know what you 
may think of it. Whether or not I am fickle, easily im- 
pressed, or deceived in my own nature, in all other re- 
spects, I know that I love this girl with every power of my 
soul and every pulse of my body ! " 

I had spoken with my eyes fixed on the crimson gulfs 
among the falling coals, and without pausing long enough 



350 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

for interruption. There was so little to tell that I must 
give it all together. Swansford did not immediately an- 
swer, and I looked towards him. He was leaning forward, 
with his elbows on the arms of the chair and his face bur- 
ied in his hands. His hair seemed damp, and drops of 
perspiration were starting on his pale forehead. A mad 
fear darted through my mind, and I cried out, — 

" Swansford ! Do you know Miss Haworth ? " 

" No," he replied, in a faint, hollow voice, " I never 
heard her name before." 

His fingers gradually crooked themselves until the ten- 
dons of his wrists stood out like cords. Then, straighten- 
ing his back firmly in the chair, he seized the knobs on the 
ends of the arms and appeared to be bracing himself to 
speak. 

" I have — no business — with love," he began, slowly ; 
" you should not come to me for judgment, Godfrey. I 
know nothing about any other heart than my own ; it would 
be better if I knew less of that. You are younger than 
me ; there is thicker blood in your veins. Some, I suppose, 
are meant to be happy, and God grant that you may be one 
of them ! I am not surprised, only " — 

He smiled feebly and stretched out his hand, which I 
pressed in both mine with a feeling of infinite pity. 

" Give me another glass of Sherry," he said, presently. 
" I am weaker than I used to be. I think one genuine, 
positive success would make me a strong man ; but it 's 
weary waiting so long, and the prospect no brighter from 
one year's end to another. Is it not inexplicable that I, 
who was willing to sacrifice to Art the dearest part of my 
destiny as a Man, should be robbed of both, as my reward ? 
K I had my life to begin over again, I would try selfish as- 
sertion and demand, instead of patient self-abnegation, — 
but it is now too late to change." 

These expressions drew from me a confession of the 
same stages of protest through which I had passed, — or, 



JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 351 

rather, was still passing, — for the rebellious thoughts only 
slumbered in my heart. We exchanged confidences, and I 
saw that while Swansford admitted to himself the force of 
the selfish plea, he still considered it with reference to his 
art. If some master of psychology had said to Imn, '' Sin, 
and the result will be a symphony ! " I believe he would 
have deliberately sinned. If Mendelssohn had murdered 
the basso, for his slovenly singing in " Elijah," he would 
none the less have revered Mendelssohn as a saint. I 
did not know enough of music to judge of Swansford's 
genius ; but I suspected, from his want of success, that his 
mind was rather sympathetic than creative. If so, his was 
the saddest of fates. I would not have added to its dark- 
ness by uttering the least of doubts : rather I would have 
sacrificed my own hopes of literary fame to have given 
hope to him. 

The days grew long and sunny, the trees budded in the 
city squares, and the snowy magnolias blossomed in the 
little front-gardens up town. Another summer was not far 
off, and my mind naturally reverted to the catastrophes of 
the past, even while enjoying the brightness of the present 
season. No word from Pennsylvania had reached me in 
the mean time, and I rather reproached myself, now, for 
having dropped all correspondence with Reading or Up- 
per Samaria. The firm of Woolley and Himpel, I had no 
doubt, still flourished, — with the aid of my money ; Rand 
and his Amanda (I could not help wondering whether they 
were happy) probably lived in the same city; Dan Yule 
was married to the schoolmistress; and Verbena Cuff, I 
hoped, had found a beau who was not afraid of courting. 
How I laughed, not only at that, but at many other epi- 
sodes of my life in Upper Samaria ! Then I took down 
" Leonora's Dream, and Other Poems," for the first time 
in nearly a year. This was the climax of my disgust. My 
first sensation was one of simple horror at its crudities ; my 
second one of gratitude that I had grown sufiiciently to 
perceive them. 



352 JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 

I was now ambitious of culture rather than fame. I saw 
that, without the former, I could never rise above a subor- 
dinate place in literature, — possibly no higher than the 
sphere represented by Mrs. Yorkton and her circle ; with 
it, I might truly not attain a shining success, but I should 
be guarded against failure, because I should know my 
talents and not misapply them. The thirst for acquiring 
overlaid, for a time, the desire for producing. After 
Wordsworth I read Pope, and then went back to Chau- 
cer, intending to come down regularly through the royal 
'succession of English authors; but the character of my 
necessary labors prevented me from adopting any fixed 
plan of study, and, as usual, I deserved more credit for 
good intentions than for actual performance. 

Only once more, in the course of the spring, did I secure 
a brief interview with Miss Haworth. During the Annual 
Exhibition of the Academy of Design, I met her there, 
one afternoon, in company with Mrs. Deering. It was a 
gusty day, and the rooms were not crowded. We looked 
at several of the principal pictures together, and I should 
have prolonged the sweet occupation through the remain- 
ing hours of daylight, had not the ladies been obliged to 
leave. 

" Do you go anywhere this smmner ? " Mrs. Deering 
asked. 

" No further than Coney Island," I said, with a smile at 
the supposition unplied by her remark ; " a trip of that 
length, and an absence of six hours, is all the holiday I 
can aiFord." 

" Then we shall not see you again until next fall. Mr. 
Deering has taken a cottage for us on the Sound, and Miss 
Haworth, I believe, is going to the Rocky Mountains, or 
somewhere near them. Where is it, Isabel ? " 

" Only to Minnesota and Lake Superior. I shall accom- 
pany a friend who goes for her health, and we shall proba- 
bly spend the whole summer in that region." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 353 

" How I wish I could go ! " I exclaimed, impetuously. 
Then, recollecting myself, I added, " But you will tell me 
all about JMinne-ha-ha and the Pictured Rocks, will you 
not ? May I call upon you after your return ? " A 

f " I shall always be glad to see you, Mr. Godfrey." ; ^^-irCn,^ 

I held her hand and looked in her eyes. It was only for 
a moment, yet I found myself growing warm and giddy 
with the insane desire of drawing her to m.y breast and 
whispering, " I love you ! I love you ! " 

When they left the exhibition-room, I followed, and lean- 
ing over the railing, watched them descending the stairs. 
At the bottom of the first flight Miss Haworth dropped her 
parasol, turned before I could anticipate the movement, and 
saw me. I caught a repeated, hesitating gesture of fare- 
well, and she was gone. 

Then began for me the monotonous life of summer in 
the city, — long days of blazing sunshine and fiery radia- 
tions from pavements and brick walls, — nights when the 
air seemed to wither in its dead sultriness, until thunder 
came up the coast and boomed over the roofs, — when 
theatres are shut, and fashionable clergymen are in Europe, 
and oysters are out of season, and pen and brain work like 
an ox prodded with the goad. Nevertheless, it was a toler- 
ably happy summer to me. In spite of my natural impa- 
tience, I felt that my acquaintance with IMiss Haworth had 
progressed as rapidly as was consistent with the prospect 
of its fortunate development. If it was destined that she 
should return my love,, the first premonitions of its exist- 
ence must have already reached her heart. She was too 
clear-sighted to overlook the signs I had given. 

There was one circmnstance, however, which often dis- 
turbed me. She was an heiress, — worth hundreds of 
thousands, Penrose had said, — and I a poor young man, 
earning, by steady labor, little more than was necessary for 
my support. While I admitted, in my heart of hearts, the 
insignificance of this consideration to the pure eyes of love, 
23 



354 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

I could not escape the conventional view of the case. My 
position was a mercenary one, and no amount of sincerity 
or fidelity could wash me clear of suspicion. Besides, it 
reversed what seemed to me the truest and tenderest rela- 
tion between man and woman. If I won her heart, I 
should be dependent on her wealth, not she upon my 
industry and energy. For her sake, I could not wish that 
wealth less : she was probably accustomed to the habits 
and tastes it made possible ; but it deprived me of the 
least chance of proving how honest and unselfish was my 
devotion. All appearances Avere against me, and if she 
did not trust me sufficiently to believe my simple word, I 
was lost. This was a trouble which I could not lighten by 
imparting it to any one, — not even Swansford. I carried 
it about secretly with me, taking it out now and then to 
perplex myself with the search of a solution which might 
satisfy all parties, — her, myself, and the world. 

The summer passed away, and the cool September nights 
brought relief to the city. One by one the languid inhab- 
itants of brown-stone fronts came back with strength from 
the hills, or a fresh, salty tang from the sea-shore. The 
theatres were opened, oysters reappeared without chol- 
era, and the business-streets below the Park were crowded 
with Western and Southern merchants. The day drew 
nigh when I should again see my beloved, and my heart 
throbbed with a firmer and more hopeful pulsation. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 355 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

WHICH GIVES AN ACCOUNT OP A FIRE AND WHAT FOL- 
LOWED IT. 

During the summer of which I am writing, there was 
an unusual demand for short, sketchy articles, moral in ten- 
dency, but without the dulness of moral essays. They were 
weak concoctions of flashy, superficial philosophy, generally 
starting from the text of some trivial incident, and made 
piquant with a delicate flavor of slang. The school exists 
to this day, and may be found, in the hectic of its com- 
mencing decline, in the columns of certain magazines and 
literary newspapers. In the days of its youth, it possessed 
an air of originality which deceived ninety-nine out of every 
hundred readers, and thus became immensely popular. The 
demand, increased by the emulation of rival publishers, and 
accompanied by fabulous remuneration (if the advertisements 
were true), soon created a corresponding su],ply, and the 
nmiiber of Montaignes and Montaignesses who arose among 
us will be a marvel to the literary historian of the next 
century. 

My practice in what the foreman of the Wonder com- 
posing-room called "fancy city articles," enabled me to 
profit at once by this new whirl in the literary current. My 
sketches, entitled " The Omnibus Horse," " Any Thing on 
This Board for Four Cents," and " Don't Jump ! " (the latter 
suggested by the Jersey City Ferry,) had already been ex- 
tensively copied, and when Mr. G. Jenks, — rising presently 
to his feet after the failure of " The Hesperian," as publisher 
of The Ship of the Line, an illustrated weekly, in which the 



856 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

same head did duty as Gen. Cass, Pius IX., and the ini^entor 
of the Air-Tight Stove, — when Mr. Jenks, I say, occupied 
another back-office, and badgered new aspirants for publicity 
with, " What 's the handle to your Brown ? — or Jones ? " — 
he summoned me to his presence and graciously offered me 
five dollars for a weekly sketch of the popular kind, not tfc 
exceed half a column in length. 

" Not too moral," he added, by way of caution, " though 
they must lea7i that way. If you can make 'em a little racy, 
— you understand, — but not so that it can be taken hold 
of, they '11 go all the better. There 's that book, ' Pepper 
Pot,' for instance, sold a hundred and fifty thousand copies 
in six months, — puffed in all the religious papers, — would 
have been a fortune to me." 

I naturally rebelled against this sort of dictation, but 
having encountered it wherever I turned, I supposed that 
it was a universal habit of publishers, and must of necessity 
be endured. The articles required could be easily enough 
produced, and the fee, small as it was, might accumulate to 
a respectable little sum if laid aside, week by week, with 
whatever else I could spare. I therefore accepted the offer, 
and was laughed at by Brandagee for not having asked 
twenty dollars. 

" If you want to be valued," said he, " you must be your 
own appraiser. Taking what 's offered is admitting that 
you 're only worth so much. There was Fleurot, — I knew 
him when he had but one shirt, and washed it with his own 
hands every night, but he would n't take a centime less than 
five thousand francs for the picture on his easel, and got it, 
sir! — got it, after waiting eighteen months. Then he 
doubled his price and played the same game. Now, if you 
want anything from his brush, you must order it six years 
in advance." 

There was a large kernel of truth in Brandagee's words, 
as I afterwards had occasion to discover. He had been ab- 
sent during the summer, as the Avenger's correspondent at 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 357 

the watering-places, claiming his rights as " d^ad-head " on 
railways and in hotels, and now returned more audacious 
and imperious than ever. During his absence, the Cave of 
Trophonius had been, for the most part, deserted. Miles 
confessed that he had been obliged to acconnnodate " other 
parties " with the use of its oracular walls, but he promised 
that " you literary gents shall 'ave it agin, 'avin' a sort o' 
fust claim." 

These things, however, belong to the unimportant inci- 
dents of my life. An event occurred — as I find by a ref- 
erence to the files of the Daily Wonder for the year 185- 
— on the night of the 27th of September, which was of 
.vital consequence to my subsequent fortunes. 

One of the assistant rej^orters was sick, and in case any- 
thing of interest should transpire, it was expected that I 
should perform his duty. I had been unusually busy through 
the day, and at eleven o'clock at night had just corrected 
and sent into the composing-room my last " copy " for the 
morning's paper, when the bell on the City Hall began to 
boom the announcement of a fire. I forced open my heavy 
eyelids, gave up, with a sigh, the near prospect of sleep 
and rest, seized my pencil and note-book, and hurried off 
in the direction indicated by the strokes. 

It was a damp, misty night, I remember, and as I reached 
the elevation of Broadway at Leonard Street, I could 
distinguish a dull glimmer over the tops of the tall houses 
on the western side. I could hear the sharp, quick rattle 
of a fire-engine dashing up Church Street, while others, 
coming from the eastern part of the city, shot through the 
Canal Street crossing. The fire was somewhere in the Tenth 
Ward, it seemed, — a trifling afiair, not worth keeping me 
from my bed, I thought, but for the certainty of the Aven- 
ger's reporter being on hand, eager to distance the Wonder 
in the morning, and then proclaim the fact, next day, as 
a triumph of " newspajDer enterprise." 

A few minutes more brought me to the scene. It was in 



358 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Green Street, near Broome. The flames were already- 
bursting out of the windows of a tall brick house ; three 
or four streams from as many engines were sparkling and 
hissing in the red light, having as yet made no headway 
against the conflagration ; and a line of policemen, on either 
side, kept back the increasing mass of spectators. There 
were shouts of command, cries, exclamations ; alarm and 
excitement in the opposite and adjoining houses, and a wet, 
sooty, dirty chaos of people, furniture, beams, and bricks, 
pouring out from below, or hurled down from above the 
fiery confusion. I was accustomed to such scenes and 
thought only of following my professional instinct, — ascer- 
taining the name of the owner of the property, its value, 
and the amount of insurance upon it. 

A word to a captain of police, and the exhibition of my 
pencil and note-book, procured me admission into the space 
cleared for the engines and hose-carriages in front of the 
fire. Here I was alternately sprinkled by upward spirts 
from pin-holes in the snaky hose, and scorched by downward 
whiffs of air, but I had the entire scene under my eye and 
could pick up my information from the tenants of the burn- 
ing house, as soon as they had done saving their mattresses 
and looking-glasses, — the objects first rescued on such 
occasions. 

The second house on the left, just opposite my perch on 
the top of a shabby chest of drawers, was brilliantly light- 
ed. The shutters being thrown back and the windows 
opened, I looked directly into a sumptuous double parlor, 
which appeared to be the scene of an interrupted enter- 
tainment. The lid of the piano was lifted, and a table in 
the centre was covered with glasses and bottles. At each 
window were grouped three or four girls, with bare white 
shoulders and arms, talldng and laughing loudly with such 
firemen as took a moment's breathing-spell on the sidewalk 
under them. Glasses, I could see, were occasionally passed 
down to the latter. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FOKTUNES. 359 

" It 's a chance if Old Western is n't smoked out of her 
hole," remarked one policeman to another. 

"Faith, she might be spared from this neighborhood," 
the latter answered, laughing. "They are carrying the 
hose up to her roof, now ! " 

I looked up and saw the helmet and red shirt of a fire- 
man behind the eaves. The street-door was entered with- 
out ceremony, and I presently noticed a coimnotion among 
the careless inmates. A policeman made his appearance 
in the parlor ; the bottles were swiftly removed, and, at a 
signal from a middle-aged woman, with a hawk's beak of a 
nose, the girls disappeared. 

All at once, a part of the roof of the burning builduig 
fell in. A cloud of fiery dust arose, raining into the street 
as it rolled across the inky sky. The heat became intense : 
the men who worked the nearest engine were continually 
drenched with water to prevent their clothes taking fire. 
My position became untenable, without more risk than a 
reporter is justified in running for the sake of an item of 
twelve lines, and I hastily retreated across the street. By 
this time many other engines had arrived, and larger space 
was required for their operations. I was literally driven to 
the wall by the press of wheels and water-jets and the reck- 
less earnestness of the firemen. 

Perceiving a narrow, arched passage between the two 
houses, — an old-fashioned kitchen-entrance, — I took ref- 
uge in it. The conflagration lighted up the further end, 
and showed me that a hose had been already laid there 
and carried to the rear. I therefore determined to follow 
it and ascertain what could be seen from the other side. 
By the help of some stakes and the remains of a grape- 
arbor, I clunbed to the top of the board-fence which 
inclosed the back-yard. The wind blew from the west, 
and thus, although I found myself quite near to the fire,' 
I was not much incommoded by the heat. The brave fel- 
lows on the roof of the nearest house moved about m dark 



360 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

relief against the flickering, surging background of dun 
and scarlet light. I shuddered as I saw them walking 
on the brink and peering down into the fatal gulf A 
strong reflected lustre was thrown upon the surrounding 
houses from the low-hanging mist, and revealed every 
object with wonderful distinctness. 

There was a rear wing to the house designated by the 
policeman as belonging to " Old Western," and I had taken 
my stand near one corner of it, at the junction of the fences 
with those of two back-yards belonging to the opposite 
houses in Wooster Street. I had not been stationed thus 
two minutes, before an agitated, entreating voice came 
down to me, — 

" Oh, sir, good sir, — please help me to get away ! " 

I looked up. A window in the end of the rear wing was 
open, and out of it leaned a girl, partly dressed, and v/ith 
her hair hanging about her ears, but with a shawl closely 
drawn over her shoulders and breast. She was not more 
than seventeen or eighteen. The expression of her face 
was wild, frightened, eager, and I imagined that she was so 
confused by fear as to have forgotten the ready means of 
escape by the street-door. 

" Please help me, quick — quick ! " she repeated. 

" The house is not on fire yet," I said ; " you can go out 
through the front without danger." 

" Oh, not that way, — not that way ! " she exclaimed. 
" It 's not the fire, — it 's the house I 'm afraid of Oh, save 
me, sir, save me ! " 

I had read, in the Police Gazette and other classical 
papers which sometimes fell into my hands, of innocent 
girls decoyed into dens of infamy, very much as I had 
read of human sacrifices in Dahomey, without supposing 
that any such case would be brought directly home to my 
own experience. This seemed to me to be an instance of 
the kind, — the girl, at least, desired to escape from the 
house, and I could not doubt, one moment, the obligation 
upon me to give her assistance. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 361 

" I will save you if I can," I said, " but it is impossible 
for you to come down from that window. Can I get into 
the house ? " 

" There is no time," she panted, — " you do not know the 
way, — she might come back. I will go down into the 
yard, and you can help me over the fence. Wait, — I 'm 
comino^ ! " 

With these words she disappeared from the window. I 
shared her haste and anxiety, without comprehending it, 
and set about devising a plan to get her over the inclosure. 
The floor of the yard was paved, and, I judged, about ten 
feet below me : I might barely reach her hand by stooping 
down, but it would be very difficult to lift her to the top 
without a stay for my own exertions. All at once I caught 
an idea from the dilapidated arbor. It was an easy matter 
to loosen one of the top-pieces, with its transverse lattice- 
bars, and let it down in the corner. This furnished at the 
same time a stay for me, and an assistance to her feet. I 
had barely placed it in the proper position before a lower 
door opened, and she hurried breathlessly up the pavement. 

" Quick ! " she whispered ; " they are all over the house, 
— they may see us any minute ! " 

I directed her how to climb. The lowest strip of lattice 
broke away ; the second held, and it enabled her to reach 
my hand. In two more seconds she stood, tottering, on the 
narrow ledge beside me. 

" Now," I said, " we must get down on the other side." 

" Here, — here ! " she exclaimed, pointing into the gar- 
den of one of the Wooster-Street houses, — " we must get 
out that way. Not in front, — she would see me ! " 

She was so terribly in earnest that I never thought of 
disputing her will. I carefully drew up the rough ladder, 
let it down on the other side, and helped her to descend. 
Then I followed. 

There was not a moment to spare. I had scarcely 
touched the earth, before a strong, stern woman's voice 



362 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

cried, " Jane ! Jane ! " from the room above us. The girl 
shuddered and seized me by the arm. I bade her, with a 
gesture, crouch in the corner, where she would be safely 
hidden from view, and stole along the fence until I caught 
sight of the window. Once the hawk's beak passed in pro- 
file before it, and the same voice said, " Damn the girl ! 
where is she ? " 

A strong light shone into the room through a window on 
the north side. There was a slamming of doors, a dragging 
noise accompanied by shouts, and then a male voice, which 
seemed very familiar to my ear, said, as if in reply to " Old 
Western's " profane exclamation, — 

" Wliat 's the matter, old woman ? Lost one of 'em ? " 

In a moment, the hose being apparently adjusted, a stout, 
square figure in a red shirt came to the window. I could 
plainly see that the hair, also, was red, the face broad, the 
neck thick, — in short, that it was my young friend, Hugh 
Maloney. 

" She can't ha' jumped out here," he said. " You need 
n't be worrited, — you '11 find her down in front among 
your other gals." 

A minute or two of further waiting convinced me that 
there was no danger of the means of escape being detected. 
The occupants of the Wooster-Street houses were all awake 
and astir, and I must procure an exit for us through the 
one to which the garden belonged. I spoke a word of en- 
couragement to the girl, picked up the light bundle of 
clothes she had brought with her, and boldly approached 
the rear of the house. This movement, of course, was ob- 
served by the spectators at the bedroom windows, and, 
after a little parley, a man came down with a candle and 
admitted us into the back-kitchen. When he had carefully 
refastened the bolts, darting a suspicious glance at myself 
and my companion, he conducted us through to the front 
door. A woman's face, framed in a nightcap, looked down 
at us around the staircase-landing, and, just before the door 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 363 

slammed behind us, I heard her call out, " Don't let any 
more of those creatures pass ! " 

I fancy the girl must have heard it too, for she turned to 
me with a fresh appeal, — " I 'm not safe yet, — take me 
away, — away out of danger ! " 

I gave her my arm, to which she clung as if it were a 
fluke of Hope's own anchor, and said, as we walked up the 
streets, — 

" Where do you wish to go ? Have you no friends or 
acquaintances in the city ? " 

" Oh, none ! " she cjried. " I don't know anybody but — 
but one I ought n't to have ever known ! I 'm from the 
country ; I did n't go into that house of my own will, and 
I could n't get out after I found what it was. I know what 
you must think of me, sir, but I '11 tell you everything, and 
maybe, then, you '11 believe that I 'm not quite so wicked as 
I seem. Take me anywhere, — I don't care if it 's a shanty, 
so I can hide and be safe. Don't think that I meant your 
own house ; you 've helped me, and I 'd die rather than put 
disgrace on you. The Lord help me ! — I may be doing 
that now." 

She covered her face with her hands and began to cry. 
I felt that she spoke the simple truth, and my pity and 
sympathy were all the more keen, because I had never be- 
fore encountered this form of a ruined life. I was resolved 
to help her, cost what it might. As for disgrace, the very 
fear she expressed showed her ignorance of the world. In 
a great city, unfortunately, young men may brave more 
than one aspect of disgrace with perfect mipunity. 

" Would you not like to go back to your friends in the 
country ? " I asked, after a moment's reflection. 

" I could n't," she moaned. " I think it would kill me 
to meet any of them now. It was a sin to leave them the 
way I did. If I could get shelter in some out-of-the-way 
street where there 'd be no danger of her finding me, — • 
no matter how poor and mean it was, — I 'd work night and 



364 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

day to earn an honest living. I 'm handy with the needle, 
— it 's the trade I was learning when " — 

A plan had presented itself to my mind while she was 
speaking. I think that vision of Hugh's head at the win- 
dow suggested it. I would go with her to Mary Maloney 
and beg the latter to give her shelter for a day or two, 
until employment could be found. In Gooseberry Alley 
she would be secure against discovery, and I believed that 
Mary Maloney, even if she knew the girl's history, would 
be willing to help her at my request. Nevertheless, I re- 
flected, it was better, perhaps, not to put the widow to this 
test. It would be enough to say that the girl was a stranger 
who had come to the city, had been disappointed in obtain- 
ing employment, and now found herself alone, friendless, 
and without means. Then I remembered, also, that my 
own stock of linen needed to be replenished, and I could 
therefore supply her with occupation for the first week or 
two. 

I stated this plan in a few words, and it was gladly ac- 
cepted. The girl overwhelmed me with her professions of 
gratitude, of her desire to work faithfully and prove herself 
deserving of help. She knew she could never recover her 
good name, she said, but it should not be made worse. I, 
who had saved her, must have evidence that I had not done 
it in vain. 

As we turned down Houston in the direction of Sullivan 
Street, we met a party of four aristocratic youths, in the 
first stage of elegant dissipation. The girl clung to my 
arm so convulsively and seemed so alarmed that I crossed 
with her to the opposite sidewalk. They stopped and ap- 
parently scrutinized us closely. I walked forward, how- 
ever, without turning my head until we reached the corner 
of Sullivan Street. When I looked back, they had disap- 
peared, — there was only a single person, standing in the 
shadow of the trees. 

Gooseberry Alley was quiet, and the coolness of the 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 365 

night had partly suppressed its noisome odors. I stopped 
under the lamp at the corner, and, while I said, " This is 
the place I spoke of, — are you willing to try it ? " — exam- 
ined the girl's face for the first time. 

She was rather short of stature, but of slight and grace- 
ful build. Her face was pale, but the bloom of her lips 
showed that her cheeks could no doubt match them with 
a pretty tint of pink. Her eyes — either of dark gray or 
hazel — were troubled, but something of their girlish ex- 
pression of innocent ignorance remained. A simple, honest 
loving heart, I was sure, still beat beneath the mask of 
sadness and shame. It never occurred to me that I was 
too young to be her protector, — that the relation between 
us would not only be very suspicious in the sight of the 
world, but was in itself both delicate and difficult. Neither 
did it occur to me that I might have dispensed with the 
confession she had promised to make, sparing her its pain, 
and allowing her to work out her redemption silently, with 
the little help I was able to give. On the contrary, I im- 
agined that this confession was necessary, — that it was my 
duty to hear, as hers to give it. 

" I have not time to hear your story to-night," I said. 
" I will see you again soon. But you have not yet told me 
your name." 

"Jane Berry," she whisi^ered. 

" And mine is John Godfrey." 

I knocked at the door of the tenement-house, and after 
some delay, and the preliminary projection of Feeny's 
sleepy head from the second-story window, was admitted by 
Mary Maloney herself She had sprung out of bed and 
rushed down-stairs in a toilette improvised for the occasion, 
— a ragged patch-work quilt held tightly to her spare body 
and trailing on the floor behind her, — under the impres- 
sion that something must have hajDpened to Hugh. In or- 
der to allay her fears, I came within an ace of betrajdng 
that I had seen the latter. I told her the fictitious story 



366 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

(Heaven pardon me for it ! ) which I had composed, and 
asked her assistance. The fragment of burning tallow in 
her hand revealed enough of Jane Berry's pretty face and 
tearful, imploring eyes, to touch the Irishwoman's heart. 

" Indade, and it 's little I can do," she said, " but you 're 
welcome to that little. Miss, even without Mr. Godfrey's 
askin'. And to think that you met hmi in the street, too, 
jist as I did ! It 's a mercy it was him, instid o' the other 
young fellows that goes ragin' around o' nights." 

I could imagine the j^ang which these words caused to 
the poor girl's heart, and therefore, saying that I had still 
work to do, and they must both go to rest at once, hurried ' 
away from the house. 

My notes were incomplete, and I was obliged to return to 
the scene of the fire, where I found smoke and ruin instead 
of flames. Two or three engines were playing into the 
smouldering hollows, sending up_ clouds of steam from the 
hot bricks and burning timbers, and the torches of the fire- 
men showed the piles of damaged furniture in the plashy 
street. Two houses had been destroyed, and the walls of 
one having fallen, there was a gap like a broken tooth in 
the even line of the block. 

I soon learned that there had been an accident. ♦ The 
front wall, crashing down unexpectedly, had fallen upon 3, 
fireman who was in the act of removing a ladder. They 
had carried him to the nearest druggist's on Broadway, and 
it was feared that his hurt was fatal. The men talked about 
it calmly, as of an ordinary occurrence, but performed their 
duties with a slow, mechanical air, which told of weariness 
and sadness. 

Of course, I was obliged to visit the druggist's, and ob- 
tain the name and condition of the unfortunate man. The 
business of a reporter precludes indulgence in sentiment, 
prohibits delicacy of feeling. If the victim of a tragedy is 
able to give his name, age, and place of residence, he may 
then die in peace. The family, drowned in tears and de- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 367 

spair, must nevertheless furnish the particulars of the mur- 
der or suicide. Public curiosity, represented by the agent 
of the newspaper, claims its privilege, and will not abate 
one item of the harrowing details. 

The policeman, guarding the door from the rush of an 
excited crowd, admitted me behind the blue and crimson 
globes. The injured man, bedded on such cushions as the 
shop afforded, lay upon the floor, surrounded by a group of 
his fellow-firemen. His shirt had been cut off, and his 
white, massive breast lay bare under the lamp. There was 
no external sign of injury, but a professional eye could see 
knobs and protrusions of flesh which did not correspond to 
the natural overlapping of the muscles. A surgeon, kneel- 
ing beside his head, held one arm, with his finger on 
the pulse, and wiped away with a sponge the bloody foam 
which bubbled from his lips. 

Presently the ,man opened his eyes, — large, clear, sol- 
emn eyes, full of mysterious, incomprehensible speech. 
His lips moved feebly, and although no sound came from 
them, I saw, and I think all the others saw, that the word 
he would have uttered was, " Good-bye ! " 

" He has but a minute more, poor fellow ! " whispered 
the surgeon. 

Then, as by a single impulse, each one of the rough group 
of firemen took off his helmet, knelt upon the floor, and 
reverently bowed his head in silence around the dying man. 
I knelt beside them, awed and thrilled to the depths of my 
soul by the scene. The fading lips partly curved in an in- 
effable smile of peace ; the eyes did not close again, but 
the life slowly died out of them ; a few convulsive move- 
ments of the body, and the shattered breast became stone. 
Then a hand gently pressed down the lids, and the kneel- 
ing men arose. There was not a sob, nor a sound, but 
every face was wet with tears unconsciously shed. They 
lifted the body of their comrade and bore hun tenderly 
away. 



kj 



368 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

It was nearly three o'clock in the morning before my 
task was finished, and I could go home to bed with a good 
conscience. I had passed the crisis of fatigue, and was pre- 
ternaturally awake in every sense. The two incidents of 
the night powerfully affected me ; dissimilar as they were, 
either seemed to spring from something originally noble 
and undefiled in the nature of Man. The homage of those 
firemen to the sanctity of Death made them my brothers ; 
the ruder and more repellant aspects of their lives drifted 
away like smoke before this revelation of tenderness. To 
Jane Berry, however, my relation assumed the pride and 
importance of a protector, — possibly of a saving agent. 
The remembrance of what I had done in her case filled 
me with perfect, serene happiness. I will not say that van- 
ity, — that selfishness (though Heaven knows how ! ) had 
no part in my satisfaction ; many profound teachers and 
exceedingly proper persons will tell us so ; — nor do I much 
care. I knew that I had done a good deed, and it was right 
I should deem that the approving smile of Our Father hal- 
lowed my sleep that night. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 369 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

IN WHICH PENROSE FLINGS DOWN THE GLOVE AND I PICK 
IT UP. 

Mary Malonet called upon me the next morning, as I 
had requested her to do. The girl, she said, had shared 
her own bed, and had risen apparently refreshed and cheer- 
ful. Hugh, who came home after midnight, had been in- 
clined to oppose the acceptance of the new tenant, until she 
explained to him the " rights of it," whereupon he had 
acquiesced. She thought there would not be much diffi- 
culty in procuring work, as the busy season for tailors and 
sempstresses was coming on ; and, meantime, she herself 
would attend to buying the linen and other materials for 
my new shirts. 

Having furnished the money for this purpose, and added 
a small sum for the girl's support until she was able to 
earn something, I considered that nothing more could be 
done until my knowledge of her story gave me other means 
of assisting her. I was naturally curious to learn more about 
her, but my occupation during the days immediately suc- 
ceeding the fire prevented my promised visit, and very 
soon other events occurred to delay it still further. 

Mrs. Deering returned from her sunnner residence on 
the Sound during the first week of October, and I was not 
long in discovering the fact and calling upon her. She 
had corresponded with Miss Haworth during the summer, 
and gave, without my asking, an outline of the latter's 
journey, adding that she was now on her way home. If 
I had not already betrayed myself to Miss Deering's de- 

24 



870 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

tective eye, I must certainly have done it tljen. I felt and 
expressed altogether too much • happiness for a young gen- 
tleman to manifest in regard to the return of a young lady, 
without some special cause. I was perfectly willing that 
she should suspect my secret, so long as its disclosure was 
reserved for the one who had the first right to hear it. 

From that day my walks at leisure times extended be- 
yond Fourteenth Street. I watched the house in Gra- 
mercy Park, until observed (detected, I fancied) by Mr. 
Tracy Floyd, who tossed me an insolent half-recognition 
as he passed. In a week, however, there was evidence of 
Miss Haworth's arrival. I did not see her, but there was 
no mistaking the character of the trunks which were un- 
loaded from an express-wagon at the door. 

I allowed two days to elapse before calling. It was a 
compromise between prudence and impatience. The event 
was of too much importance to hazard an unsatisfactory 
issue. Not that I intended declaring my love, or con- 
sciously permitting it to be expressed in my words and 
actions ; but I felt that in thus meeting, after an absence 
of some months, there would be something either to flatter 
my hope or discourage it wholly. 

I dressed myself and took my way across Union Square 
and up Fourth Avenue, with considerable trepidation of 
mind. I w^as aware that my visit was sanctioned by the 
liberal conventionalism of the city, and, moreover, I had 
her permission to make it, — yet the consciousness of 
the secret I carried troubled me. My heart throbbed 
restlessly as when, three or foiir years before, I had car- 
ried my poem of the " Unknown Bard " to the newspaper 
office. But I never thought of turnino^ back this time. 

I was so fortunate as to find Miss Haworth at home and 
Mr. Floyd out. The latter, I suspect, had not credited me 
with boldness enough for the deed, and had therefore taken 
no precautions against guarding the beauty and the fortune 
which he was determined to possess. A^-^^^^f f^yn^^^i*^ ^ / 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 371 

I looked around the sumptuous parlor while awaiting 
Miss Haworth's appearance, and recognized in the pictures, 
the bronzes, the elegant disposition of furniture and orna- 
ments, the evidence of her taste. It was wealth, not coarse, 
glaring, and obtrusive, but chastened and ennobled by cul- 
ture. Thank God ! T whispered to myself, money is her 
slave, not her deity. 

The silken rustling on the stairs sent a thousand tremors 
along my nerves, but I steadily faced the door by which 
she would enter, and advanced to meet her as soon as I 
saw the gray gleam of her dress. '■■ How bright and beau- f 
tiful she was ! — not flashing and dazzling as one accus- i 
tomed to conquest, but with a soft, subdued lustre, folding 
in happy warmth the heart that reverently approached her. 
Her face had caught a bloom and her eye an added clear- 
ness from the breezes of the Northwest; I dared not 
take to myself the least ray of her cheerful brightness. 
But I did say — for I could not help it — that I was very 
glad to see her again, and that I had often thought of her 
during the long summer. 

" You must have found it long, indeed," she said, " not 
being allowed to escape from the city. I am afraid I have 
hardly deserved my magnificent holiday, except by enjoy- 
ing it. You, who could have described the shores of Lake 
Superior and the cliifs and cataracts of the Upper Missis- 
sippi, ought to have had the privilege of seeing them rather 
than myself." 

" No, no ! " I exclaimed. " The capacity to enjoy gives 
you the very highest right. And I am sure that you can 
also describe. Do you remember your promise, when I had 
the pleasure of meeting you in the Exhibition Rooms ? You 
were to tell me about all you should see." 

" Was it a promise ? Then I must try to deserve my 
privilege in that way. But here is something better 
than descrijDtion, which I have brought back with me." 

She took a portfolio from the table and drew out a number 



372 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

of photographic views. The inspection of these required 
explanations on her part, and she was unconsciously led 
to add her pictures to those of the sun. I saw how truly 
she had appreciated and how clearly remembered the 
scenes of her journey ; our conversation became frank, 
familiar, and in the highest degree delightful to me. A 
happy half-hour passed away, and I had entirely forgotten 
the proprieties, to the observance of which I had mentally 
bound myself, when the servant announced, — 

" Mr. Penrose ! " 

I started, and, from an impulse impossible to resist, 
looked at Miss Haworth. I fancied that an expression 
of surprise and annoyance passed over her face, — but it 
was so faint that I could not be certain. My conversation 
with her concerning him, at Deering's " very sociable " 
party, recurred to my mind, and I awaited his entrance 
with a curious interest. There was nothing in the manner 
of her reception, however, to enlighten me. She was 
quietly self-possessed, and as cordial as their previous 
social intercourse required. 

On the other hand, Penrose, I thought, was not quite at 
ease. I had not seen him before, since his return from Sar- 
atoga, and was prepared for the quick glance of surprise 
with which he regarded me. The steady, penetrating ex- 
pression of his eyes, as we shook hands, drew a little color 
into my face ; he was so skilful in reading me that I feared 
my secret was no longer safe. For this very reason I de- 
termined to remain, and assume a more formal air, in the 
hope of deceiving him. Besides, I was desirous to study, 
if possible, the degree and character of his acquaintance 
with Miss Haworth. 

" Ah ! these are souvenirs of your trip, I suppose," he 
said, glancing at the photographs as he rolled a heavy vel- 
vet chair towards the table and took his seat. " I only 
heard of your arrival this evening, from Mrs. Deering, and 
hoped that I would be the first to compliment you on your 



JOHN- GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 373 

daring ; but Mr. Godfrey, I see, has deprived me of that 
pleasure." 

To my surprise, a light flush ran over Miss Haworth's 
face, and she hesitated a moment, as if uncertain what reply 
to make. It was but for a moment ; she picked up some 
of the photographs and said, — 

" Have you ever seen these views of Lake Pepin ? " 

" No," he answered, running over them like a pack of 
cards ; " superb ! magnificent 1 By Jove, I shall have to 
make the trip myself. But I would rather see a photograph' 
of Lake George. What a pity we can't fix heroic deeds as 
well as landscapes ! " 

" Mr. Penrose," Miss Haworth remarked, with an air of 
quiet dignity, " I would rather, if you please, not hear any 
further allusion to that." 

" Pardon me, iMiss Haworth," he said, bowing gravely ; 
" I ought to have known that you are as modest as you are 
courageous. I will be silent, of course, but you cannot for- 
bid me the respect and admiration I shall always feel." 

What did they mean ? Something of which I was igno- 
rant had evidently taken place, and her disinclination to 
hear it discussed prevented me from asking a question. My 
interest in the conversation increased, although the pause 
which ensued after Penrose's last words hinted to me that 
the subject must be changed. I was trying to think of a 
fresh topic, when he resumed, with his usual easy adroit- 
ness, — 

" I don't suppose I ever did a really good deed in my 
life, Miss Haworth, — that is, with deliberate intention. 
One does such things accidentally, sometimes." 

" Don't believe hhn ! " said I. " He likes to be thought 
worse than he really is." 

" If that is true, I should call it a perverted vanity," Miss 
Haworth remarked. 

" You are quite right," Penrose replied to her, " but it is 
not true. I have no mind to be considered worse than I 



374 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

am, but to be considered better implies hypocrisy on my 
part. I might compromise for my lack of active goodness, 
as most people do, by liberal contributions to missions and 
tract-societies, and rejoice in a saintly reputation. But 
where would be the use ? It would only be playing a more 
tiresome role in the great comedy. Because I am not the 
virtuous hero, I need not necessarily be the insidious villain 
of the plot. The walking gentleman suits me better. I 
know all the other characters, but they are my ' kyind 
friends,' — I treat them with equal politeness, avoid their 
fuss and excitement, and reach the denouement without 
tearing my hair or deranging my dress." 

He spoke in a gay, rattling tone, as if not expecting that 
his assertions would be believed. Miss Haworth smiled at 
the part he assumed, but said nothing. 

" Wliat will you do when the play is over ? " I asked. 

" Come, Godfrey, don't bring me to bay. Everything on 
this planet repeats itself once in twenty-eight thousand years. 
In the mean time, I may go on a starring tour (pardon the 
pun, Miss Haworth, it is n't my habit) through the other 
parts of the universe. Why should one be brought up with 
a serious round turn at every corner ? It should be the 
object of one's life to escape the seriousness of Life." 

" Death is the most serious aspect of Life," I said, " and 
it is not well that we should turn our faces away from it." 

I could not talk lightly on subjects of such earnest im- 
port. Death and ruin had too recently touched my own 
experience. I began to tell the story of the crushed fire- 
man, and Penrose, though at first he looked bored, finally 
succumbed to the impression of the death-scene. I found 
myself strangely moved as I recounted the particulars, and 
it required some effort to preserve the steadiness of my 
voice. When I closed there were tears in Miss Haworth's 
lovely eyes. Penrose drew a long breath and exclaimed, — 
" That was a grand exit." 

Then his face darkened, and he became silent and moody. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 375 

I heard the street-door open, and suspecting that it was 
Mr. Tracy Floyd, whom I had no desire to meet, rose to 
take leave. Penrose followed my example, saying, as he 
lightly touched Miss Haworth's hand, — 

" Do not misunderstand me if I have failed to respect 
your delicacy of feeling. I assure you I meant to express 
no empty, formal compliment." 

" The case has been greatly magnified, I have no doubt," 
she answered. " I simply obeyed a natural impulse, which, 
I am sure, any other person would have felt, and it is not 
agreeable to me to have a reputation for heroism on such 
cheap terms." 

I presume my face expressed my wonder at these words, 
for she smiled with eyes still dewy from the tears I had 
called forth — a warm, liquid, speaking smile, which I an- 
swered with a tender pressure of her hand. The next 
moment, frightened at my own boldness, and tingling with 
rosy thrills of passion, I turned to meet Mr. Floyd at the 
door. 

Penrose greeted him with a cool, off-hand air of superi- 
ority, and I answered his amazed stare with the smallest 
and stiffest fragment of a bow. We were in the street be- 
fore he had time to recover. 

We turned into and walked down Fourth Avenue side 
by side. I made some remarks about the night and the 
weather, to which Penrose did not reply. His head was 
bent, and he appeared to be busy with his own thoughts. 
Presently, however, he took hold of my arm with a fierce 
grasp, and exclaimed, — 

" John, did you mention it to her ? And did she allow 
you to speak of it ? " 

" What do you mean ? " I asked. " What was it ? You 
and she were speaking in riddles. I know nothing more 
than that she did something which you admire, but which 
she does not wish to have mentioned." 

"And you really don't know ? That girl is a trump, John 



376 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Godfrey. She saved a man's life at the risk of her own, a 
fortnight ago." 

" Is it possible ? " I exclaimed. " Where ? How ? " 
"At Lake George. They were there on their return 
from the Northwest. The season was nearly over, you 
know, and there were not many persons at the hotel, but I 
had the story from Welford, our next-door neighbor in 
Chambers Street, who was one of them. It seems that she 
had gone off alone, strolling along the shore, and as the 
day was clear and hot, had taken a seat somewhere under 
a tree, near the water, beside a little point of rock. One 
of the Irish waiters went into the lake for a bath, and 
whether he got beyond his depth and could n't swim, or 
whether the coldness of the water gave hun the cramp, I 
don't know, but the fact is he went down. Up he came 
again, splashing and strangling ; she heard the noise, 
sprang upon the rock, and saw the fellow as he went down 
the second time. Another girl would have stood and 
"^ screeched, but she walked straight into the lake — think 
\ ^ ' of it, by Jove ! — until the water reached her chin. She 
^7{^ could see his body on the bottom, and perhaps he, too, saw 
"^i% her white dress near him, for he stretched out his arm to- 
wards her. She shut her eyes, plunged under and just caught 
- him by the tip of a finger. Good God, if she had lost her 

.^ balance ! His hand closed on hers with a death-grip. She 

drew him into shallower water, then, by main force, — big 
^P and heavy as he was, — upon the sand, threw his clothes 

^, over his body, and stuck her parasol into the ground to 

.i, keep the sun off his head. There was a scene at the hotel 

I' when she walked in, drowned and dripping from head to 

■# foot, and called the landlord to the rescue. The man was 

S.4 saved, and I hear there was no end to his gratitude. The 

1^, other young ladies, Welford says, thought it very romantic 

and predicted a marriage, until they found it was an Irish 
^ waiter, when they turned up their noses and said, ' How^y 

f could she do such a thing ? '" 



< 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 377 

Penrose closed his story with a profane exclamation 
which I will not repeat. The noble, heroic girl ! I was 
filled with pride and admiration — it was honor but to love 
her, it would be bliss unspeakable to win her ! 

" It was gloriously done ! " I cried. " There is nobody 
like her." I quite forgot that I was betraying myself. 

" John," said Penrose, " come into the square. You and 
I must have an explanation. You love Isabel Plaworth, 
and so do I ! " /O 6^^ ' • ," 

" Good God, Alexander ! Are you serious ? '* 

" Serious ? " he echoed, with a savage intensity which 
silenced me. We entered the eastern gate of the oval en- 
closure, which, at that hour, was almost deserted. Two or 
three footsteps only crushed the broad gravel-paths. The 
leaves were falling, at intervals, from the trees, and the 
water gurgled out of the pipes in the middle of the basin. 
I followed him to the central circle, where he stopped, 
turned, and faced me. His eyes shone upon me with a 
strong, lambent gleam, out of the shadows of the night. I 
was chilled and bewildered by the unexpected disclosure 
of our rivalr}^, and nerved myself to meet his coming words, 
the purport of which I began to forebode. 

" John Godfrey," he said at last, in a low voice, which, 
by its forced steadiness, expressed the very agitation it 
should have concealed, — " John Godfrey, there is no use 
in trying to disguise the truth from each other. You would 
soon discover that I love Isabel Haworth, and I prefer tell- 
ing you now. You and I have been friends, but if you are 
as much in earnest as I take you to be, we are from this 
time forth rivals, — perhaps enemies." 

He paused. I tried to reflect whether this hostile re- 
lation — for so his words presented it « — was indeed inev- 
itable. 

" Towards another man," he continued, " I should not be 
so frank. But I am ready to show you my hand, because I 
have determined to win the game in spite of you. I have 



378 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

told you that I am intensely selfish, and what my nature 
demands that it must have. You are in my way, and un- 
less you prove yourself the stronger, I shall Crush you down. 
I don't know what claims you make to the possession of 
this girl, — but it is not necessary to measure claims. I 
admit none except my own. When Matilda recommended 
her to me as an eligible match, I kept away from her, having 
no mind for matches de convenance, — least of all, of Ma- 
tilda's making ; but little by little I learned to know her. 
I saw, not her fortune, but a rare and noble woman, — such 
a woman as I have been waiting for, — welcome to me as 
Morning to Night. She is my Eos, — my Aurora." 

The stern defiance of his voice melted away, and he 
pronounced the last words with a tender, tremulous music, 
which showed to me how powerfully his heart was moved 
by the thought of her. But was she not all this to me — 
and more ? Not alone my future fortune, but compensation 
for a disappointed past ? Yes : I felt it, as never before, 
and grew desperate with the knowledge, that, whatever the 
issue might be, at least one of us was destined to be un- 
happy forever. 
i^\^^\ "You say nothing," he said, at last. "I repeat to you 
I shall win her. Will you relinquish the field? or will you 
follow a vain hope, and make us enemies ? I have given 
you fair warning, and want your decision." 

" You shall have it at once, Alexander," I replied. " I 
will be equally frank. Like you, I admit no claims except 
my own. This is a matter in which your fortune, your 
superior advantages of person and social culture give you 
no additional right. It takes more than your own will to 
achieve success : you seem to leave her out of the account. 
So long as she has not spoken against me, I also may hope. 
I will 7iot relinquish the field. You say I love her, and 
you ask me to act as if my love were a farce ! Rivals we 
must be : it cannot be helped ; but I will try not to become 
your enemy." 



<«/ 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 379 

He laughed. " I warn you," he said, " not to depend on 
your ideal of human generosity and magnanimity. If you 
are fortunate, — I simply accept your own supposition, for 
the moment, — you would not feel hostility towards me. 
Oh, no ! the fortunate can easily be generous. But don't 
imagine that I should play Pythias to your Damon in that 
case, or that you will be any more inclined to do it for me 
when the case is reversed. No ; let us face the truth. One 
of us will never forgive the other." 

" It may be as you say," I answered, sadly. " Would to 
God it had not happened so ! " 

" Cousin John," cried Penrose, suddenly, seizing me by 
the hand, " I know the world better than you do. I know 
that love, nine times out of ten, can be kindled and made 
to burn by the breath of the stronger nature that craves it. 
I am cool-headed, and know how to play my powers, — 
yes, my passions, if need be. You say I leave her out of 
the account, but it is only because I believe her affections 
to be free. The question is, which of us shall fct catch 
and hold them ? I shall succeed, because I most need to 
be successful. Think what a cold, isolated existence is 
mine, — how few human beings I can even approach, — 
and of those few what a miracle that one forces me to love 
her ! See, then, how all the brightness of my life hangs 
on this chance. Give up the rivalry, John ; it is not life 
or death with you ; you have friends ; you will have fame ; 
yours is a nature to form new ties easily ; you will find sun- 
shine somewhere else without trying to rob me of mine ! " 

My feelings were profoundly touched by his apjjeal, and 
possibly some romantic idea of generosity may have weak- 
ened my resolution for a moment. My heart, however, re- 
asserted its right, reminding me that love cancels all duties 
except its own. Possibly — and the thought stung me with 
a sharp sense of joy — I w^as speaking for her life as v/ell 
as mine. But, whether or not, I dared not }deld merely 
because his trumpet sounded a boast of triumph ; I must 
stand and meet the onset. 



380 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" Alexander," I said, " ask me anything but this. When 
Isabel Haworth tells me with her own lips that she cannot 
love me, I will stand back and pray God to turn her heart 
to you. But, loving her as I do, that love, uncertain as is 
its fortune, binds me to sacred allegiance. While it lasts, 
I dare not and will not acknowledge any other law. If it 
meets its counterpart in her, I will not fear the powers you 
may bring to move her, — she is mine, though all the world 
were in league with you. I shall employ no arts ; I shall 
take no unfair advantage ; but if God has meant her for 
me, I shall accept the blessing when He chooses to place 
it in my hands." Ov\l A-^ rL^'< ^{.j r^—- -c>-^^y .--- 

Penrose stood silent, with folded arms. It was some 
time before he spoke, and when he did so, it was with a 
voice singularly changed and subdued. " I might have 
known it would end so," he said ; " there is another strength 
which is as stubborn as mine. I have more reason to fear 
you than I supposed. It is to be a fight, then ; better, per- 
haps, with you than with another. Hereafter we shall meet 
with lances in rest and visors down. Give me your hand, 
John, — it may be v\^e shall never shake hands again." 

Out of the night flashed a picture of the wild dell in 
Honeybrook, and the dark-eyed boy, first stretching out a 
cousin's hand to me from his seat on the mossy log. Was 
the picture also in his mind that our hands clung to each 
other so closely and so long? I could have sobbed for 
very grief and tenderness, if my heart had not been held 
by a passion too powerful for tears. 

We walked side by side down Broadway. Neither spoke 
a word until we parted with a quiet " Good-night ! " at the 
corner of Bleecker Street. There was but one contingency 
which might bring us together again as we were of old, — 
disappointment to both. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 381 



CHAPTER XXX. 

WHICH BRINGS A THUNDERBOLT. 

During my interview with Penrose, I was supported hj 
the strength of an excitement which stimulated all my 
powers of mind and heart. The reaction followed, and 
showed me how desperate were my chances. He was in 
every respect — save the single quality of fidelity — my 
superior ; and unless she should discover that hidden virtue 
in me, and accept it as outweighing culture, brilliancy, 
and manly energy, there was every probability that she 
would prefer my cousin, if called upon to choose between 
us. The first impression which he produced upon her did 
not seem to be favorable, but I drew little comfort there- 
from. His face was " not easily read," she had said, which 
only indicated that she had not yet read it. Certain ob- 
vious characteristics may clash, even while the two natures 
are drawing nearer and nearer in the mystic, eternal har- 
mony of love. On the other hand, I had flattered my 
hopes from the discovery of points of sympathy, little 
tokens of mutual attraction ; but how deep did those signs 
reach ? Had I any right to assume that they expressed 
more on her side than that aesthetic satisfaction which 
earnest minds derive from contact ? Possessing literary 
tastes, she might feel some interest in me as a young author. 
It was all dark and doubtful, and I shrank from making 
the only venture which would bring certainty. 

I had congratulated myself on the force of character, 
which, I fancied, had fully developed itself out of the cir- 
cumstances of my life. No doubt I had made a great stride 



382 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

forwards, — no doubt I was rapidly becoming independent 
and self-reliant, — but the transformation was far from 
being complete. This new uncertainty set me adrift. My 
will seemed as yet but the foundation of a pier, not suffi- 
ciently raised above the shifting tides of my feelings to 
support the firm arch of fortune. I envied Penrose the 
possession of his more imperious, determined quality. More- 
over, the gulf into which I had looked was not yet sealed ; 
there were hollow echoes under my thoughts, — incredulous 
whispers mocked the voice of my hope, — and at times a 
dark, inexorable Necessity usurped the government of 
Life. 

Through all these fluctuations, my love remained warm 
and unwavering. I clung to it, and order gradually returned 
out of the apparent chaos. It contained the promise of 
Faith, of reconciliation with the perverted order of the 
world. 

I now recalled, with a sense of shame, my neglect of 
Jane Berry since the night of her rescue, and made it a 
point to visit Gooseberry Alley next morning, before going 
down town. I found her in ]\Iary Maloney's kitchen, as- 
sisting the latter in starching her linen. Her hair was 
smoothly and neatly arranged, the bright color had come 
back to her face, and she v/as, in truth, a very pretty, at- 
tractive girl. A joyous light sparkled in her eyes when 
she first looked up, on my entrance, but her lids then fell 
and a deep blush mantled her cheeks. 

" And it 's a long time ye take, before you show y'rself, 
Mr. Godfrey," exclaimed Mary Maloney. " Here 's Miss 
Jenny was beginnin' to think she 'd niver see ye agin." 

"You might have told her better, Mary," I said. "I 
have been remiss, I know. Miss Berry, but I wanted to dis- 
cover some chance of employment for you before calling. 
I am sorry to say that I have found nothing yet." 

" You are very kind, sir," she answered, " and I don't wish 
to trouble you more than can be helped. Mary has been 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. S83 

making inquiries, and she expects to get some work for me 
very soon." 

" Yes," said Mary ; " slie 's frettin' herself, for fear that 
she 's a burden on me ; but, indade, she ates no more than 
a bird, and it is n't me that 's hard put to it to live, since 
Hugh aims his six dollars a wake. He pays the rint, ivery 
bit of it, and keeps hisself in clothes, and I don't begrudge 
the lad a shillin' or so o' spendin'-money, as well as his 
aiquals. I have my health, God be praised, and indade the 
company she 's to me seems to give me a power o' sperrit. 
But there 's them that don't like to be beholden to others, 
and I can't say as I blame 'em." 

" Oh, it is n't that,* Mary," here Jane Berry interposed ; 
" I 'm sure you have n't allowed me to feel that I was ^ 
burden, but I am really able to earn my own living, and 
something more, I hope. It 's what I want to do, and I 
can't feel exactly satisfied until I 'm in the way of it." 

I felt ashamed of my neglect, and resolved to atone for 
it as soon as might be. I assured Jane Berry that I should 
take immediate steps to secure her steady employment. 
But I could not say to her all that I desired ; Mary Malo- 
ney was in the way. I therefore adopted the transparent 
expedient of taking leave, going part way down the stairs, 
and then returning suddenly to the door, as if some mes- 
sage had been forgotten. 

She came hurriedly, at my call. I remained standing on 
the upper step, obliging her to cross the landing, the breadth 
of which and the intervening room removed us almost be- 
yond earshot of the Irishwoman. 

" I wanted to ask you," I said, in a low voice, and some- 
what embarrassed how to begin, " whether she knows any- 
thing." 

" I don't know," she answered. " It seems to me that 
everybody must mistrust me ; — but I Ve been afraid to tell 
her." 

" Say nothing, then, for the present. But you wanted to 



384 JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 

give me your history, and it must be told somewhere else 
than here. Could you go up into Washington Square, some 
evening, and meet me ? You can say you need a walk and 
fresh air, or you can make an errand of some kind." 

She appeared to hesitate, and I added, " The sooner I 
know more about you, the better I may be able to assist 
you." 

" I will come, then," she faltered, " but please let it be 
some dark evening, when I would run no risk of meeting 
her, — that won^^n. You 've saved me once, and you would 
n't want me to run into danger again, sir ? " 

" God forbid ! Choose your own time." 

In the course of a few days, with thie aid of Mary Malo- 
ney, I procured an engagement for plain needle-work, not 
very well paid, it was true, but still a beginning which 
would serve to allay her scruples and give her encourage- 
ment to continue the work of self-redemption. The estab- 
lishment was in the upper part of the Bowery, and the pro- 
prietors required her to work on the spot, in company with 
a score of other needle-women, — an arrangement which she 
was nervously loath to accept, but there was no help for it. 

On the following Saturday night I met Miss Haworth, 
quite unexpectedly, at a literary soiree. I was listening to 
a conversation between a noted author and an artist whose 
allegorical pictures were much admired in certain quarters. 
The latter asserted that a man must himself first feel what- 
ever he seeks to express, — must believe before he can rep- 
resent ; in other words, that the painter must be a devout 
Christian before he can paint a Holy Fainil}', or the poet a 
Catholic before he can write a good hymn to the Virgin. 
The author adduced Shakspeare as an evidence of the ob- 
jective power of genius, which can project itself into the 
very heart of a great range of characters and recreate them 
for its purposes. I was greatly interested in the discussion, 
and naturally inclined to the artist's views. Not recognizing 
my own limited powers, my immaturity of mind and habit 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 385 

of measuring other men by my individual standard, I was 
glad to find a fact, true of myself, asserted as a general law. 
I expressed, very warmly, my belief that hypocrisy — as I 
called it — was impossible in Art ; only that which a man 
really was, could he successfully express in words,* on can- 
vas, or in marble. 

Suddenly I turned my head with the vague impression 
that somebody was listening to me, and encountered Miss 
Haworth's eyes. She was one of a lively group who were 
commenting on a proof-engraving of one of Kaulbach^s 
cartoons, just imported from Europe, and appeared to have 
only turned aside her head for a moment. She acknowl- 
edged my bow, but her eyes fell, and when I sought her, as 
soon as I could escape from the discussion, her usual ease 
and grace of manner seemed to have been disturbed. The 
soft, sweet eyes rather shunned than sought mine while she 
spoke, and her words were so mechanical as to denote ab- 
straction of mind. I feared, almost, that Penrose had 
hinted at my passion, but the next moment acquitted him 
of this breach of faith, and began to wonder whether she 
did not suspect it. If so, I felt that I had strong reason to 
hope. The serenity of her nature was evidently troubled, 
yet she did not avoid or repel me. On the contrary, I knew 
that her glances followed me. Without daring to watch 
her, I walked in the light and warmth of her eyes, in an 
intoxication of the heart which continually whispered to it- 
self, " Your time has come, — you shall be blessed af last ! " 1 

Now I might venture to declare my love ; for, even if its 
growth in me should encounter only its first timid develop- 
ment in her, I should still be sure of the end. But it re- 
quired more resolution than I had supposed to take the 
important step. Perhaps Penrose had anticipated me, and 
— though unsuccessful, or rather, because of it — had un- 
tuned her heart for a time. Should I not wait for an inti- 
macy which might foreshadow its object ? Then the unage 
of Amanda Bratton perversely returned to annoy me. 

25 



386 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Some devilish attribute of memory held up, face to face, 
and forced me to see again my boyish raptures, my stolen 
embraces, and the mockery of my final interview. It was 
profanation to Isabel Haworth to couj)le her image with 
that other, but the latter had left its impress on my life, 
and its cold, hard features glimmered through the warm 
tints of the new picture. 

I remember that I walked the streets much at this time, 
and' I think it was in one of those aimless walks that I met 
Jane Berry returning from her day's labor. Her face was 
covered by a thick veil, and I did not recognize her, but 
she stopped and said, hesitatingly, " Mr. Godfrey ? " 

" Oh, it is you, Jane ; are you going home ? " 

" Yes, but I am ready to keep my promise, if you wish it, 
sir. It 's on my mind and troubles me, and I may as well 
begin first as last." 

" Very well," said I ; " here is Fourth Street. We shall 
find the square empty at this hour, and it 's your nearest 
way home." 

It was a cloudy evening and the dusk was rapidly deep- 
ening into night. The gas already flared in the Broadway 
shops, and the lamplighters were going their rounds from 
one street-corner to another. There were few persons in 
Fourth Street, and as I walked down it, beside Jane Berry, 
I was conscious that my interest in her had somewhat faded. 
Her rescue (if it might be called so) was a thing of the 
past, 8tnd the romantic victim had become a commonplace 
sempstress, — to be looked after, of course, and restored to 
her family as soon as practicable ; but I felt that I should 
be relieved of an embarrassing responsibility when this 
duty had been discharged. 

Thus occupied with my thoughts, we reached the south- 
ern gate of the square, and I stopped. The girl looked at 
me as if expecting me to speak. She wanted courage to 
commence, and I therefore asked, — 

" Are you willing to tell me where your home is ? " 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 387 

" In Hackettstown, sir," she answered. " Though we 
used to live in Belvidere. My father and brother are rafts- 
men. I came to Hackettstown to learn the trade from an 
aunt of mine — my father's sister — who lives there, and 
does a good business. In the summer she works a good 
deal for the quality at Schooley's Mountain, and that 's how 
I became acquainted with — with him. Oh, pray, sir, don't 
ask me to tell you his name ! " 

" No, Jane," I said, " I don't care to hear it. It is enough 
to know what he is." 

" He was staying at the hotel, too," she continued. " Some 
times I went up in the stage, on errands for my aunt, and 
walked back down the mountain. He used to meet me 
and keep me company. I was n't taken with him at first, 
he spoke so bold and would stare me out of countenance. 
Then he changed, and seemed to be so humble, and talked 
in a low voice, and put me above all the quality at the ho- 
tel, and said he loved me truly and would make a lady of 
me. I began to like his talk, then : I was foolish, and be- 
lieved whatever he said. Nobody before ever praised me 
so, — not even — oh, sir ! that was the worst thing I did ! 
There was another that loved me, I am sure of it, and — 
and I am afraid now that I love him I What will become 
of me?" 

She burst into a fit of passionate weeping. I saw by the 
lamp that her face was pale and her limbs trembling, and 
feared that her agitation might overcome her. I put one 
arm around her waist to support her, bent down and tried 
to cheer her with soothing words. Fortunately there was 
no one near, — - only a carriage dashed along, and the coach- 
man pulled up, as if about to stop at the opposite corner. 
I involuntarily drew her away from under the lamp, and 
into the shade of the trees beyond. 

" Tell me no more," I said, " if it pains you to do so." 

" I 've told you the worst no^. I don't understand it at 
all. I can see the difference between the two, in thinking 



388 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

over what 's happened, but then I was charmed, as I have 
heard say that a bird is charmed by a rattlesnake. The 
other one would n't praise me, — I thought him readier to 
scold, but oh ! he meant it for my good. It was pleasant 
to be told that I was handsome, — that I had good manners, 
and that I should be a rich man's wife, and ride in my own 
carriage and live in ease all my life. Then, sir, there was 
to be a farm bought for father, — it was only to say yes, 
and everything should be just as I wanted, as fine as a fairy 
tale. And I believed it all ! Only the going away so se- 
cretly troubled me, but he said we would be back in two or 
three days, and then what a surprise ! The two other girls 
would be ready to tear my eyes out, for spite at my great 
fortune ; — oh, and I dare n't look them in the face now. 
So we went away in the train, and I thought it was his house 
he took me to " — 

She stopped here, unable to say more. It was needless : 
I could guess the rest. I saw the vanity and shallowness 
of the girl's nature, but a fearful retribution had followed 
her false step, and it was not for me to condemn her in her 
shame. But I stretched forth my arm and crooked my 
fingers, thirsting to close them around the throat of the 
villain who had deceived her. 

" You do not wish to return, then ? " I asked. " Would 
not your aunt receive you ? " 

" I have been thinking it all over. If I could say that I 
have been at work, and have a little money to show for it, 
and maybe a recommendation from the people I work for, 
you see, sir, it would n't look quite so bad. Only I might 
have to lie. That would be dreadful ; but I think it would 
be more dreadful for me to tell the truth. Do you think, 
sir, that God would forgive me for the lie ? " 

Her simple question brought confusion upon my ethics. 
I was really unable to answer it. On the one hand, the 
unforgiving verdict of the* world, — a life hopelessly dis- 
graced by the confession of the truth ; on the other, a posi- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 389 

tive sin, offering the means of atoning for sin and repairing 
a ruined life ! 

After a long pause I said, " God must answer that ques- 
tion for you. Go to Him and wait patiently until His will 
shall be manifest. But perhaps you are right in not wish- 
ing to return at once. I hoped you might have enabled 
me to assist you, but it seems best, now, that you should 
depend on yourself, unless — you spoke of another " — 

" Don't mention him ! " she cried. " I must try not to 
think of him any more. He 's as proud as the richest, and 
would trample me into the dust at his feet." 

I saw that any further allusion to this subject would be 
inflicting useless pain, and proposed that she should return 
to her lodgings. On the way I encouraged her with prom- 
ises of procuring better employment. I already began to 
plan what might be done, if Isabel Haworth should give 
herself to me, — I would interest her in Jane Berry's fate, 
and that once accomplished, all the rest would be easy. 
It was a case, moreover, for a woman's delicate hand to 
conduct, rather than a young man like myself 

I was fearful lest Mary Maloney might notice the traces 
of the girl's agitation, and therefore exerted myself to turn 
the conversation into a cheerful channel. On reaching 
Gooseberry Alley I went with her into the tenement-house, 
partly to divert the Irishwoman's attention. Feeny, smok- 
ing his pipe at the front-window, looked down and grinned, 
as we waited on the steps for the opening of the door. 

Up-stairs, in the little back-kitchen, the table was spread 
for supper, and Hugh, with his shirt-sleeves rolled up as 
usual, was attending to the frying of some bacon. The lid 
of the tea-kettle danced an irregular jig to a tune whistled 
by the steam, and the aspect of the room was as cheery as 
its atmosphere was appetizing. Mary Maloney dusted the 
stool and handed it to me, saying, — 

" Sure, now, and would you take a cup g' tay wi' the 
likes of us ? " 



390 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

I assented very willingly, and drank the cheap tea, out 
of a grotesque cup of " rale chaney, brought from th' old 
country," with a relish. Hugh, since his promotion to 
"vvages and his enrolment as a fireman, had acquired quite 
a manly air, but he struck me as being more taciturn than 
ever. The red cm-Is were clipped close to his hard, round 
head, and his freckled chin was beginning to look stubby. 
When he spoke his voice betrayed the most comical mixt- 
ure of the Irish brogue and the Bowery drawl. I caught 
him several tmies looking at me with a singular, questioning 
expression which puzzled me. The idea came into my 
head, without any discoverable reason, that he disliked me. 
Nevertheless, when his mother commanded him to light me 
to the street, he obeyed with alacrity, going in advance, 
and shading the dip with his big hand, to throw the most 
of its rays on the rickety steps. 

I had not seen Mrs. Deering since my first visit after her 
return to the city. She was " indisposed," and her husband, 
whom I encountered in Broadway, informed me that Fashion 
prohibited her from appearing in society for three or four 
months. It was therefore useless to count on the chances 
of meeting Miss Haworth at her residence, and there was 
no certain way left to me but to repeat my call in Gra- 
mercy Park. I had now determined on the final venture, 
and only sought a lucky occasion. Twice or thrice I scouted 
around the house before finding appearances propitious ; 
once there was a carriage in waiting, and another time I 
distinctly recognized the shadow of Mr. Floyd crossing the 
window-blinds. It was rather singular, I thought, that I 
did not happen to meet Penrose. 

At last, it seemed that I had hit upon the right moment. 
The house was still, and the servant informed me that Miss 
Haworth was at home. I gave my name and entered the 
parlor to await her coming. I was in a state of fever ; 
my cheeks burned, my throat was parched, and my heart 
throbbed so as almost to take away my breath. I strove 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 391 

to collect my thoughts and arrange my approaches to the 
important question, but the endeavor was quite useless; 
not only Amanda, but Penrose, Floyd, and ]Miss Levi, sent 
their wraiths to perplex me. The cold gray eyes of one 
woman, the powerful Oriental orbs of the other, were upon 
me, while each of the male rivals stretched out a hand to 
pull me back. What was I — an unknown country youth, 
hardly more than an adventurer as yet — to overleap, with 
easy triumph, all the influences banded against me ? 

There was the sound of a coming footstep. Swallowing 
down, by a mighty effort, a part of my agitation, I leaned 
on the back of a fauteuil, and looked at the reflected door 
in a large mirror between the windows. It opened swiftly, 
but the figure mirrored the next moment was not that of 
Miss Haworth. It was a servant-girl who was quick enough 
to deliver her errand. 

" Miss Haworth says she 's not able to see you this even- 
ing, sir," she said ; " and here 's a note she 's sent down." 

I took it, — a folded slip of paper, without any addi^ess, 
but sealed at one corner. 

" It is for me ? " I asked. 

" Yes — sir ! " the girl replied, very emphatically. 

I opened it ; there were only two lines, — 

" Miss Haworth informs Mr. Godfrey that her acquaint- 
ance with him has ceased." . ../■^i^Mx.-^'^J fS"iltA^ 

The words were so unexpected — so astounding — that 
I could not at once comprehend their meaning. I felt 
marvellously calm, but I must have turned very pale, for 
I noticed that the girl watched me with a frightened air. 
My first impression was that the note was a forgery. 

" Who gave you this ? " I asked. 

" She did, sir. I waited while she wrote it." 

" Is Mr. Tracy Floyd in the house ? " 

" No, sir ; he dined out to-day, and has n't come back 
yet." 

There was nothing more to be said. I crushed the 



392 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

slip of paper in my fingers, mechanically thrust it into 
my vest-pocket, and walked out of the house. I walked 
on and on, paying no heed to m.y feet, — neither thinking 
nor feeling, hardly aware of who I was. My nature was 
in the benumbed, semi-unconscious state which follows a 
stroke of lightning. There was even a vague, feeble effort 
at introversion, during which I whispered to myself, au- 
dibly, — " It don't seem to make much difference." 

A lumber-yard arrested my progress. I looked around, 
and found myself in a dark, quiet region of the city, un- 
known to me. Over the piles of boards, I could see the 
masts of sloops. I had followed Twentieth Street, it ap- 
peared, across to the North River. I now turned down 
Eleventh Avenue, and walked until I came to a pier. The 
dark water which I heard, surging in from pile to pile, with 
a whishing thud at each, called me with an irresistible voice. 
I was not conscious of any impulse to plunge in and fathom 
the wearisome mystery of life ; but if I had accidentally 
walked off the pier in the darkness, I would scarcely have 
taken the trouble to cry for help. 

The pier- watchman confronted me with a rough, — " What 
do you want here ? " 

" Nothing," I said. 

"Who are you?" 

" Nobody." 

" Then take yourself off, Mr. Nobody, or I '11 make a 
Somebody of you." 

I obeyed him. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 393 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

IN WHICH I BEGIN TO GO DOWNWARDS. 

It struck nine o'clock when I reached my lodgings. I 
was half-way up the first flight of steps when I suddenly 
asked myself the question, " What am I going to do ? " My 
duties called me to the newspaper-office, but I felt that I 
was fit neither for labor, sleep, nor solitude. My only con- 
scious desire was oblivion of the Present, — escape from 
myself. After a moment's reflection I turned, descended 
the stairs, went out of the house, and made my way straight 
to Crosby Street. 

Miles welcomed me with, " Glad to see you, sir, — most 
of the gents is in," — and, as he spoke, the Avenger's 
reporter issued from the Cave. 

" You 're just in time, Godfrey," said the latter ; " they 're 
in the humor for making a night of it. I wish I could stay, 
but the Election plays the deuce with one's pleasures. No 
less than three meetings to-night: I must down to the 
office, and out again." 

" Then," I observed, " you can do me a favor. I must 
write a line to Severn. Will you drop it in the business 
office, to be sent up to him?" 

I got a scrap of paper from Miles, scribbled a few hasty 
words saying that T was ill and unable to attend to my 
work, inclosed it in a brown envelope and gave it to the 
reporter. Having thus shirked my duties, I entered the 
Cave. 

The usual company was assembled, with the exception 
of Brandagee, who, however, had promised to be present. 



394 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

The plan of the City Orach had been revived, I was 
informed, and this time there would be no mistake. 
There were two additions to the company, both of them 
smart, comic writers, whose dehut in the Sunday papers 
had been immensely successful, while " the millstone," as 
Brandagee was accustomed to call Mr. Ponder, had been 
fortunately removed. He had found a congenial place, as 
the writer of moral essays for a religious weekly, and came 
no more to the Ichneumon. 

" I met him yesterday at the corner of the Bible House," 
said Smithers, " and I believe the fellow would have cut 
my acquaintance if he had dared. He was so pompously 
proper and pious that I said, ' Have you a tract to spare ? ' 
and turned down the collar of his overcoat, to see if he 
wore a white cravat. But what can you expect from the 
lymphatic temperament ? There 's no muscle about him, 
only adipose substance, and his neck is as thin as the 
back of a rail." 

Smithers untied his scarlet cravat and loosened his 
shirt-collar, as if to show that Ids neck was the reverse of 
thin, — and, indeed, it bore no slight resemblance to a 
plethoric column of the Indian cave-temples, surmounted 
by its poppy-head capital. He would have accepted this 
comparison as a compliment. He knew just enough of 
the Indian mythology to suppose that some of its features 
were rude, primitive forms of his own philosophy of life ; 
he also adored the symbol of Siva, but under a less 
exalted significance. 

. All the initiation-fees of our clique or club had been 
contributed long since, and each individual was now forced 
to pay for his own refreshment ; yet this necessity seemed 
to be no embarrassment. There might be no funds on 
hand for a new coat or pair of boots, but there vfas always 
enough for beer. I ordered a Toby of old ale, and drank 
it down, at one breath, from the cock of the hat. Mears 
immediately drew a caricature of me, holding a barrel 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 395 

aloft by the chines, with the bung-hole over my open 
mouth. Miles was an infallible judge of ales, and the 
keen, ripe fluid brought life and warmth back to ijiy stag- 
nant blood. I was too reckless to stop short of any extrav- 
agance, whether of potation or of sjDeech. 

" Godfrey, is it to be an epic or a tragedy ? " cried Mears. 
" You 've got a thirsty idea in your head, — a big plant, I 
should say, to require so much irrigation." Then he roared 
out a stanza of the old bacchanal of Walter de Mapes, 
which he had learned to sing at Dusselddrf. 

" Tales versus facio, quale vinum bibo ; 
Neque possum scribere, nisi sumto cibo ; 
Nihil valet penitus quodjejimus scribo; 
Nasonem post calices carmine pr^eibo." 

" That sounds more like a jubilate for a birth than a 
mass for the dead," said Brandagee, entering the room. 
" Has any of you just been delivered ? " 

" It 's the inauguration hymn for the Oracle''' I retorted, 
" and you are just in time to give the opening address." 

" Here it is, — Babcock has come to terms. This time 
we shall begin ivith the Opera, and I fancy we '11 make a 
sensation. The Impresario is all right ; I 've just had a 
bottle with him at Curet's. Now to lubricate my tongue, 

— what can I take after Beaume ? " 
" Whiskey," suggested Smithers. 

" Yes, if I could order one of your famous 'long-shore- 
men's stomachs with it. But my taste is delicate to-night, 

— I want claret. Who '11 lend me money at the risk of 
never being repaid ? " 

None of the others were eager to embrace the risk, 
which noticing, I handed Brandagee a five-dollar note 
across the table. The money had no value to me now, 
and -I wanted the help of his reckless fancy and his auda- 
cious tongue. 

" Godfrey, you deserve to make heavier profits," said he. 
" I 'U put you in the way of it for the sake of a loan now 



396 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

and then. Meanwhile you shall have the half of what this 
brings, and I '11 continue to owe you the whole of it. In 
that way we shall both gain by the operation." 

Amid much laughter the order was given, and we were 
fairly launched on the fun of the evening. Miles, who was 
always in a good humor when there was a certainty of our 
spending a respectable sum, contributed a handful of 
cigars, and the air of the room soon put on its blue 
mysterious density, severe upon the eyes, but stimulating 
to the imagination. 

" About the Oracle,'' said Brandagee, throwing his heels 
upon another chair and settling himself comfortably for 
talk, — " we must seriously begin to work for it. I think it 
would be best to open the first number with a burlesque 
platform, in the style of the political papers, — making our 
principles so broad that they would just amount to none at 
all. I had it in mind to copy the plan of Le Flaneur, 
which came out while I was in Paris. There was nothing 
about it to indicate a new paper : the leader began, ' In our 
article of yesterday we said ' so and so ; and the novel in 
the femlleto?i was in its ninth chapter. It mystified every- 
body, as you may imagine. But I guess the joke would be 
too fine for the American mind to relish. AVhat passes for 
wit among us, is simply a colossal absurdity ; our bur- 
lesques are the most exaggerated the world ever saw. We 
must throw tubs to the whale and sops to Cerberus. After 
all, I rely most on the incidental sources of profit to keep 
up the paper." 

" As how ? " asked one of the company. 

" Well, if there is audacity and arrogance enough among 
us, we '11 soon get a reputation for critical knowledge. 
Once let the Oracle become the oracle of opinion in artis- 
tic, dramatic, and fashionable matters, and you see what our 
recommendation will be worth. Why, two or three theatres 
alone would club together to keep up a paper which sent 
the public to their ticket-ofiices, if there were any danger 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 397 

of it going down. This is the simple philosophy of the 
matter : we know what is good or bad, — the public don't. 
The public, let me tell you, always takes its opinion on such 
matters at second-hand, and is often put to much inconven- 
ience by the absence of an infallible standard. Now, sup- 
pose we supply this standard ; we then hold the fate of 
every book, picture, play, opera, — to say nothing of hotels, 
restaurants, tailors' and milliners' establishments, and the 
like, — in our own hands. We have a positive power, and the 
exercise of power is just what commands the highest price. 
All we want is talent enough to maintain our position. I 
think we have that, and the next thing is to work together. 
Somebody must take the lead and direct the operations of 
the concern, and the others must submit to his direction, 
or we 're ruined before we begin." 

That somebody, we all understood, must be Brandagee 
himself. The prospect of entire submission to his dicta- 
tion was not altogether pleasant to any of us, but he pre- 
sented it as an ultimatum which must needs be accepted. 
I was not in a frame of mind to notice any other fact than 
that I should be well paid for a few sharp, bitter, racy arti- 
cles, — such as I felt myself in a proper mood to write. 
As to Brandagee's hints of the channels through which the 
incidental profits were to be derived, they did not trouble 
me now. If people paid, they were supposed to receive an 
equivalent, — at least, they would think so, and they were 
the parties most concerned. 

" Not a bad plan," said Smithers, referring to this branch 
of the business. " It 's a sort of literary filibustering which 
will develop mental courage and muscle, — qualities which 
this age sorely needs. We shall be like the wandering 
knights of the Middle Ages, going out to conquer domains 
and principalities, or like the Highland chieftains, swoop- 
ing down on the plodding Lowlanders, and taking their 
surplus cattle. In fact, we could n't have a better motto 
than Rob Roy's." 



398 JOHIT GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" There 's Fiorentino, for instance/' said Brandagee. 
" What he has done, we may do, — all the more easily here, 
where there are no intelligent rivals in the field. He 's a 
tolerably clever writer, but his chief power is in manage- 
ment. He knows everybody, and has the run of all the in- 
fluential papers, so that whether his word is the strongest 
or not, it goes further than any one else's. I suppose the 
same thing might be tried here, if the chief dailies were 
not such damnable cats and dogs, but if we can lump the in- 
fluence now scattered among them, and hold it as our own 
property, don't you see how the system will be simplified ? " 

The others all professed they saw it very clearly. In 
fact, as they began to understand " the system," they grew 
more willing to leave to Brandagee the task of carrying it 
into effect. Mears no longer hinted at " black mail," but 
rejoiced in the opportunity offered to him of demolishing 
Seacole, the allegorical painter. The opinions of the lat- 
ter on the connection between Faith and Art, which I was 
wicked enough to betray, gave Mears the material for an 
exquisitely ironical description of his rival, letting his beard 
and nails grow and rolling himself in the ash-heap, to pre- 
pare his soul for the conception of a figure of St. Jerome. 

There was another feeling which instigated me to join in 
this dishonorable scheme. My literary ambition, I have al- 
ready said, was disturbed ; its fresh, eager appetite was 
blunted, with increasing knowledge of myself, and from the 
other fluctuations of my fortunes, — but I was also disap- 
pointed, though I would not confess the fact to myself. 
After the kind, almost tender reception of my volume, I 
seemed to make no progress. I was welcomed at my en- 
trance into the literary guild, and then — ignored. The 
curiosity attending the presentation of a new individuality 
in letters is soon satisfied, and many are the unfortunate 
authors who have accepted this curiosity as fame. But 
serious achievement is necessary to retain an interest which 
is liable to be overlaid by the next comer. The public 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 399 

seems to say, "This man may be a genius, — we have given 
him welcome and encouragement ; now let him prove his 
right ! " 

The rule is natural, and I am satisfied that it is just. 
The firstlings of any author generally have an artless, un- 
pretending beauty of their own, which is none the less in- 
teresting because it is not permanent. Poets are like 
apple-trees ; there is a season of bloom and a season of 
fruit, — but between the two we often find a long period 
when the blossoms have fallen and the fruit is not yet ripe, 
— a silent, noteless, almost unlovely season of growth and 
transition. The world, at such times, passes heedlessly by 
the tree. 

Though I professed to be indifferent to the neglect of 
my name, I was in reality embittered. I might value a lit- 
erary reputation less than formerly, but it was not pleasant 
to feel that I was losing my chance for it. I saw that other 
young authors, comparison with whom — impartially made, 
although I did it — was not unfavorable to myself, kept 
their hold on the public attention, while others, in whom I 
found neither taste nor culture, were rising into notice. It 
would be well, I thought, to let the public see how egre- 
giously it was mistaken in some of these cases ; I would 
show that slang and clap-trap very often make the staple 
of a wide-spread reputation. 

This petulant, captious disposition was encouraged by the 
tone adopted by my associates of the Cave of Trophonius. 
I was astonished and a little shocked at first, but I soon be- 
came accustomed to the cool, assured manner in which con- 
temporary fames were pulled to pieces, and the judgment 
of posterity pronounced in anticipation. This sort of as- 
surance is soon acquired, and in a short time I became as 
great an expert as the rest. Having already unlearned so 
much of my early faith and reverence, — making them re- 
sponsible, indeed, for. my misfortunes, — I rather exagger-, 
ated the opposite qualities, through fear of not sufficiently 



400 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

possessing them. It was a pitiful weakness, but, alas I we 
can only see correctly our former, not our present selves. 

When I arose, late the next day, after a revel carried 
beyond midnight, I was in no better mood for resuming my 
regular labors. Duty, in any shape, had become "flat, 
stale, and unprofitable," and I felt strongly inclined to com- 
pensate for the lack of that luxurious indulgence which my 
nature craved, by lower forms of license. The blow of the 
previous evening had stunned rather than wounded me, 
and I felt that I should never again be sensitive to the 
good or ill report of men. 

As for Miss Haworth, two explanations of her act pre- 
sented themselves to my mind. Either Penrose or Floyd 
had misrepresented my character to her, or her position as 
an heiress had made her suspicious, and she attributed a mer- 
cenary object to my attentions. The latter surmise seemed 
the more plausible, as the circle in which she moved prob- 
ably offered her few examples of pure, unselfish unions. 
The higher her ideal of love, the more cautious she would 
be to keep from her its baser semblance, and my principal 
cause of grievance was, that, in her haste and suspicion, she 
had misjudged my heart. I could not seek a justification ; 
it was too delicate a subject to be discussed, except between 
confessed lovers. She might have dismissed me in less 
cruel a fashion, I thought, but it made little difference in 
the end. She was lost to me, without giving me a reason 
for ceasing to love her. 

The more I reflected on this subject, the more sure I 
was of having guessed the true explanation. She had re- 
jected me, not because I was poor, but because she was 
rich, — I, that would have thought it bliss to work for her, 
to wear out my life in making hers smooth and pleasant to 
her feet ! I said, with a bitter ejaculation, that gold is the 
god of the world, — that no heart can be^t with a natural 
emotion, no power of mind expand with a free growth, no 
life rejoice in the performance of its appointed work, with- 



JOHN GOriFREY'S FORTUNES. 401 

out first rendering sacrifice to this Moloch ! And yet, what 
Brandagee had said was true ; it was no substance, it had 
not even the dignity of a material force : it was simply an 
appearance, — nothing when held and only turning into 
possession when thrown away. 

I accepted, with stolid indifference, the prospect of a 
lonely life. Never again would I allow myself to love a 
woman, when the love of this one should have gradually 
perished (as I fancied it would), for want of sustenance. 
No home, no household joys, should ever be mine. The 
sainted spirit of my poor mother would never be called 
upon to bless the grandchildren whom she would fain have 
lived to kiss : I should go back to her alone, as on Saturday 
nights from my school at Honeybrook, — if, indeed, there 
was anything beyond the ashes of the grave* This life, that 
opened so sunnily, that promised so fairly, — what had it 
become ? and why, therefore, should our dreams of rest and 
peace hereafter be more securely based ? What sort of a 
preparation was there in the endurance of disappointment 
and injustice, to a nature whose natural food is joy ? 

So I reasoned — or, rather, thought I reasoned — with 
myself. There was no one to hold me up until my feet were 
strong enough to tread the safe and difficult track alone. 
Swansford was my only intimate friend, but, as I had not 
confided to him the growth of my passion, so now I with- 
held the confession of its untimely end. Besides, he seemed 
to be growing more sad and morbid. His views of life, if 
less cynical, were equally dark, and he often unconsciously 
encouraged me in my reckless determination to enjoy " the 
luck of the moment," whatever it might be. My position 
in Literature was similar to his in Musical Art ; both had 
aspired and failed to achieve. The drudgery by which he 
supplied his personal wants was very irksome, but he would 
not replace it, as he might have done, by labors which he 
considered disgracefiil to his art. Herein there was a 
difference between us, — a difference which at first had 



402 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

made me resjDect him, but which I nov/ turned to ridicule. 
If he were fool enough to sacrifice his few possibilities of 
enjoyment to an unprofitable idea, I would not imitate him. 

After a few days of idle and gloomy brooding, followed 
by nights at the Ichneumon, I was driven back to the 
Wonder office, by the emptiness of my purse. I resumed 
my duties, performing them in a spiritless, mechanical fash- 
ion, with omissions which drew upon me Mr. Clarendon's 
censure. The Oracle was to appear in a fortnight or so, 
and I comforted myself with the pecuniary prospect which 
it held out to me, resolving, if it were successful, to cut 
loose from the daily treadmill round of the Wonder. My 
short articles for Jenks's Ship of the Line became smart 
and savage, as they reflected the change of my temper, and 
Jenks began to send back the proofs to me with a query on 
the margin, — " Is n't this a little too strong ? " Foliowing 
Brandagee's advice, I had demanded twenty dollars instead 
of the original five, but, as I lacked his brass, compromised 
for ten. This, however, was a small matter : I counted on 
receiving fifty dollars a week, at least, from the Oracle. 

The days went by, fogs and chill, lowering skies succeed- 
ed to the sofl autumnal days, and finally the opera season 
opened and the important paper appeared. There was an 
office in a third story in Nassau Street, a sign in illuminated 
Gothic letters, advertisements in the daily papers, negotia- 
tions with news-dealers, and all the other evidences of an 
establishment, intended not for a day but for — several 
years, at least. We celebrated the issue of the first num- 
ber by a supper at Curet's, at which Mr. Babcock was pres- 
ent. It was unanimously agreed that nothing so spicy and 
brilliant had ever been published in New York. It trans- 
pired, in the course of the entertainment, that Babcock and 
Brandagee had equal shares in the proprietorship, and I 
was, consequently, a little disappointed when the latter 
handed me only fifteen dollars for one of my most dashing 
and spiteful sketches, three columns in length. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 403 

" We must have the power first," he said, " and then we '11 
have the pay. Babcock is tight, and I don't want to make 
him nervous at the start. It will take about three or four 
weeks to get the reins in my hands." 

He gave me a significant wink, and I was reassured. 
There was the great fact of the paper being actually in 
existence. Creation, of course, implied vitality, and the 
mere start, to my mind, involved permanence and success. 
An easy, careless life was before me for the immediate 
future, at least, and I did not care to look farther. 

I knew, from Mr. Severn's hints, as well as from Mr. 
Clarendon's ominous looks, that I was getting into disgrace 
with both of them. Accordingly, I was not surprised one 
Saturday morning, on being summoned to the sanctum of 
the latter, — a call which I obeyed with a dogged indiffer- 
ence to the result. 

"I am sorry to notice your remissness, Mr. Godfrey," 
said the chief, with a grave air, "and I have only post- 
poned speaking of it, because I hoped you would have 
seen and corrected it yourself The paper is injured, sir, 
by your neglect." 

" I work as I am paid," I answered. " If you can find a 
better man, on the same terms, I am willing to give him 
my place." 

" It is not that alone, Mr. Godfrey. You promised to 
become an available writer, and your remuneration woiild 
have been increased. I am afraid the company you keep 
or the habits you have formed are responsible for your 
failure to advance as fast as I anticipated. For your own 
sake, I shall be glad if you can assure me that this is not 
the case." 

" I was not aware," I said, " that I was to look to some 
one else to choose my company and prescribe my habits." 

" I suspect," he continued, without noticing this defiant 
remark, " that Brandagee has too much influence over you. 
I see your name in his new paper, — a clever rocket, but it 



404 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

will soon burn itself out. I advise you to have nothing 
more to do with it." 

" No," said I, " I prefer giving up my place here." 

" Very well, but I am sorry for it. Mr. Severn ! " he 
called, rising and going to the door, " see Phelps this after- 
noon, and tell him to be on hand to-morrow evening ! " 

Severn looked at me, for the first time in his life, with a 
malignant expression. I laughed in his face, took a few 
private papers from the drawers of the desk I had used 
for two years and a half, thrust them into my pocket, and 
walked out of the office. 

On the steps I met Mr. Lettsom, with his hands full of 
law-reports on transfer-paper. I had always liked the 
plain, plodding, kind-hearted fellow, and would fain present 
him in these pages as he deserved, but that, after his 
first service, he mingled no more in the events of my life. 

" Good-bye, Lettsom," I said, giving him my hand ; " you 
brought me here, and now I am taking myself off." 

He looked bewildered and pained when I told him what 
had occurred. " Don't do it, — don't think of doing it ! " 
he cried. 

" It is already done." 

I ran down the steps past him, and gained the street. 
My days of drudgery were over, but I could not enjoy the 
sense of freedom. There was a pang in breaking off this 
association which I could not keep down, — it was like 
pushing away from the last little cape which connected 
me with the firm land, and trusting myself to the unsta- 
)ble sea. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 405 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

CONCERNING MARY MALONET's TROUBLE, AND WHAT I 
DID TO REMOVE IT. 

One of the first results of the vagabond life into which 
I was rapidly drifting was a dislike for the steady, ordered, 
respectable circles of society. I looked, with a contempt 
which, I now suspect, must have been half envy, on the 
smooth, prosperous regularity of their ways, and only felt 
myself at ease among my clever, lawless associates, or 
among those who were poor and rude enough to set aside 
conventionalities. Thus it happened that I visited Mary 
Maloney much more frequently at this time than formerly. 
Jane Berry had been promoted, and was allowed to work 
at home, and I found a great pleasure in the society of two 
women who knew nothing of me — and would probably 
believe nothing — but good. They were both ignorant, 
and they looked up to me for counsel, and listened to my 
words with a manifest reverence, which, to a man of my 
years, was a most delicate flattery. 

Sometimes I went in the early evening, with a few 
ounces of tea, or some other slight gift, as my excuse, but 
oftenest in the afternoons, when Hugh was sure to be 
absent. The silence of this growing bully, and the glances 
which he shot at me cut of his bold eyes, were not encour- 
agements to conversation in his presence. I fancied him 
to be one of those natures, at once coarse and proud, who 
bear an obligation almost as restively as if it were an 
injury. 

After a while, however, I detected a change in Mary 



406 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Maloney's manner towards me. She no longer met me 
with the same hale, free welcome when I came : her 
tongue, wont to run only too fast, halted and stumbled ; 
I could see, although she strove to hide it, that my pres- 
ence was a constraint, .yet could not guess why it should 
be so. This was annoying, not only on account of the old 
familiarity between us, but because I had a hearty liking 
for Jane Berry, who was almost the only person living in 
whose fate I was earnestly interested. 

The latter, since the night when she had confided to me 
her history, no longer met me with a shy, blushing face, 
but showed a frank, fearless pleasure in my society. My 
visits seemed to cheer and encourage her, and with the 
growing sense of security, her hopeful spirit returned. 
She would soon be ready, I believed, to think of going 
back to the little New Jersey village. 

It was near Christmas, — I remember trying to fix upon 
some appropriate, inexpensive gift for the only two female 
friends left to me, as I walked by the gayly decorated 
shops in Broadway, — when I turned, one afternoon, into 
Gooseberry Alley. I met Mary Maloney at the door of 
the tenement-house, with her bonnet on, and a basket of 
laundered linen in her hand. 

" Wliat ! — going away, Mary ? " I said. " I was about to 
pay you a visit." 

She put down her basket on the floor of the passage, 
and looked at me with a troubled expression. " Miss 
Jenny 's at home," she said at last, with an air of hesitation, 
" but I s'pose, sir, you would n't want to see her, and me 
not there ? " 

" Why not ? " I answered, laughing. " She 's' not afraid 
of me, nor you either, Mary. Have I grown to be danger- 
ous all at once ? " 

" Sure, and it is n't that, Mr. Godfrey. Would you mind 
comin' a bit down the strate wi' me? I'd like to spake 
with you for a minute, jist." 



JOHK GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 407 

" Oh, certainly," I said, turning and walking in advance 
between the gutter and the wall, until I reached the broader 
sidewalk of Sullivan Street. Here she joined me with her 
basket, and, when we were beyond hearing of any strag- 
glers in the Alley, halted. 

" I 'm a widow, Mr. Godfrey," she said, " and, askin' y'r 
pardon, sir, nigh old enough to be the mother o' you. 
There 's been somethin' I 've been a-wantin' to say to you, 
but it is n't a thing that 's aisy said ; — howsiver, I 've spoke 
to the praste about it, and he says as you 're a proper young 
man and my intentions is right, it 's no sin, naither shame, 
but rather a bounden juty, sir, — and I hope you '11 take 
it so. It may n't seem right for me to go fornenst you, 
bein'. so beholden to your goodness, and I wud n't if there 
was any way to help it." 

Here she paused, as if expecting a reply. I had no idea, 
however, of the communication so solemnly preluded, and 
would have laughed outright but for the grave expression 
of her face. " I understand that, Mary," I said ; " now tell 
me the rest." 

" It 's about Miss Jenny, sir. The neighbors knowed of 
her comin', and who brought her, all along o' Feeny's bein* 
roused up in the night, and their tongiies was n't idle, you 
may think. Girls wantin' sewin' a'n't to be picked up in 
the strates o' midnights, and though I knowed it was all 
right because you said so, it was n't quare, considerin', that 
folks should talk. You may think it 'd make little differ- 
ence, anyhow, among us poor bodies ; but we have our car- 
rackters as well as our betters. Well — when they saw 
how handy and stiddy she was at her needle, they seemed 
to give me the rights of it ; but now it 's all t' other way, 
along o' you comin' so fraiquently, sir, — and I 'm sure 
you 're welcome, ivery time, — and as for me, I 'm an honest 
woman, and nobody can say a word fornenst me, barrin' 
they lie, — but things is said, sir, as is n't agrayable to hear 
and hardly dacent to repate. Maybe you can guess 'em." 



408 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" What ! " I exclaimed, " do they charge Jane Berry 
with being a mistress of mine ? I suppose that is what 
you mean. You know, Mary, that it is a lie." 

"I know, sir," she answered, "but my word goes for 
notliin' aginst appairances. Feenys takes my part, and 
says if it 's so, it 's unbeknowns to me, — which would be 
true if the t' other thing was, — but, in course, that don't 
stop their tongues. You see, sir, I can't bring it over my 
heart to tell her, — she 's a dacent, kindly, lovin' little body 
as iver was ; but she '11 find it out to her sorra." 

" Well," said I, " rather than that you and she should 
be annoyed and slandered in this way, I must give up my 
visits. Is there anything else I can do to satisfy those 
fools?" 

" There was somethin' else I had on my mind, and there 's 
no use o' makin' two bites at a cherry," said she, with a 
curious misapplication of the proverb. But her face grew 
red and her voice dropped to a whisper. I began to fear 
— absurd as the thought was — that she also had been 
implicated in those amiable reports. 

" It 's harder to tell," she said at last, wiping her face 
with her apron, "but maybe you'll know v/hat I mane, 
without my sayin' too much. I 'm thinkin' o' Hugh. I 've 
seen, plainly enough, that somethin 's the matter wi' the 
lad, iver since she come into the house. If he 's an honest 
likin' to her, it is n't to be thought that she '11 take up wi' 
the likes o' him, — though there a'n't a stouter and whole- 
somer boy o' his age in New York, — and if he has nH, it 's 
worse. He can't keep the eyes of him off her, and the 
temper of him 's jist ruint intirely. Maybe I 'm doin' 
wrong, bearin' witness aginst my own boy, but if you could 
hear him swear sometimes, sir, and grind his teeth in his 
slape, as I do, layin' awake and thinkin' what's to be 
done!" 

The widow's words threw a quick, strong light on Hugh's 
behavior. She was keener-sighted than I, and she had 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 409 

placed the whole situation clearly before me. Evidently, 
she relied upon me to relieve both her and Jane Berry 
from its certain distress, its possible danger, — and she must 
not be disappointed. 

" Mary," I said, after a moment's reflection, " I am so 
surprised by all this that I must take time to think it over. 
You were quite right to tell me, and I give you my word 
that I will not stop until the matter is set right." 

" Thank ye, sir ! " she gratefully exclaimed. " I knowed 
you had the knowlidge and the v/illin' heart." 

Then she went on down Sullivan Street, while I turned 
in the opposite direction, intending to go into Washington 
Square and turn the subject over in my mind, as I had 
promised. I Avas profoundly vexed, — not that /cared for 
the suspicions of that Irish pack, but on Jane Berry's ac- 
count. Of course she must leave Gooseberry Alley without 
delay, and my principal task was to find a pretext for 
removing her. 

What was the thought that suddenly caused me to stop, 
and then hurried me back the way I came ? As this is 
to be an hnpartial history, it must be told ; but I can best 
tell it by relating what followed. Every detail of the scene 
remains fresh and vivid in my memory. 

I reentered Gooseberry Alley, and in another moment 
knocked at the door of Mary Maloney's lodgings. It was 
opened, as I expected, by Jane Berry, and I carefully 
closed it behind me as I entered, lest any of the Feenys 
might be eavesdropping. Jane had taken her work to the 
window of the little kitchen, where there was more light 
of an afternoon, and briskly resumed her nefedle after ad- 
mitting me. I noticed how fine and glossy her hair was 
where the light touched it. 

" Mary 's not at home," she said, as I took a seat. 

" I know it, Jane, and that is the reason why I have come 
to see you. I met her in the street." 

I was embarrassed how to proceed further. She looked 
up with a wondering expectancy, and forced me to go on. 



410 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" I have heard something," I said, " which I am afraid 
will be very disagreeable news to you. I would not come 
to trouble you with it, if I did not think it was necessary." 

She became so pale and frightened all at once that I 
saw what she suspected, and hastened to allay her fears. 

" I know what you are thinking of, Jane ; but it is not 
that. The woman has not found you out, — nay, I am sure 
she has ceased looking for you by this time. It is some- 
thing which you could not have imagined, — something 
which affects myself as well as you. My visits, it seems, 
have been noticed by the poor, ignorant fools who live in 
these houses, and they can only explain them in their own 
coarse way. I see you don't understand me yet ; I must 
say, then, that neither of us is considered as virtuous as 
the people think we should be." 

" Oh, Mr. Godfrey ! " she cried, " and I 've brought this 
on you ! I 'm sure it must have been Mary who told you ; 
she has n't seemed to me like the same woman for a week' 
past, but I thought she might have troubles of her own. 
I felt that something was n't right, but I never thought of 
that ! She don't believe it, surely ? " 

" She does not," I said ; " but this wicked gossip spares 
her none the more for that. She is a good, kind-hearted 
woman, and must not be allowed to suffer on account of it." 

" No, no, — I 'd rather tell her everything ; but, then, 
it would n't help, after all. I ought n't to stay here since 
the story is believed ; what can I do, if I leave ? " 

" Make the story true," I said. 

Yes, those were my very words. Wliat wonder if she 
did not understand them, — if her look of innocent bewil- 
derment caused my wanton eyes to drop, and a sting of re- 
morseful shame to strike through my heart ? They were 
said, however, and could not be recalled, and I saw that her 
mind, in another moment, would comprehend their mean- 
ing. So I crushed down the rising protest of my better 
self, and repeated, — 



JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 411 

" Make the story true. If we try to be good, we get no 
credit for it, and it is no worse to he what they say we are 
than to have them believe so." 

She still looked at me incredulously, though the color 
was deepening on her cheek and creeping down over her 
slender throat. " Mr. Godfrey," she said at last, in a low, 
fluttering voice, " you are not saying what you really think ? " 

" It is true ! " I exclaimed. " Look at the thing yourself; 
your life is ruined, and so is mine. Everything goes wrong 
with me, — doing right has brought me nothing but mis- 
fortune. You are more to be pitied than blamed, yet the 
villain who ruined you is a respectable member of society, 
no doubt, while you are condemned as long as you live. 
You see how unjust is the judgment of the world, — at any 
rate, / do, and I have ceased to care for it. If we unite 
our lives, we may be some comfort to each other. I can 
make enough money to keep you from want, and that is 
probably all you would ever have, if your friends were to 
take you back again. You may be sure, also, that I would 
be both kind and faithful." 

The poor girl changed color repeatedly while I was ut- 
tering these cruel words. I thought she was deliberating 
whether to accept my proposition ; but her heart, shallow 
as were its emotions, was still too deep for my vision to 
fathom. She was too agitated to speak ; her lips moved 
to inaudible words, and her eyes looked an unintelligible 
question. I stooped down and took her hand ; it was 
trembling, and she drew it gently out of my grasp. But the 
words were again repeated, and this time I heard them, — 

" Do you love me ? " 

I felt, by a sudden flash of instinct, all that the question 
implied. In that moment, I became the arbiter of her fate. 
There was an instant's powerful struggle between the Truth 
and the Lie ; but, thank God, I was not yet wholly debased. 

" No," I said, " I will not deceive you, Jane. I do not 
love you. Love ! I have had enough of loving. Yes, — 



412 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

you may know the whole truth ; I love as you do, — one 
who is lost to me, and through no fault of mine. What is 
left to me, — to either of us ? " 

She had covered her face with her hands, and was weep- 
ing passionately. I knew for whom her tears were shed, 
and how unavailingly, — but her grief was less than mine, 
by as much as the difference in the depth of our natures. 
I felt no movement of pity for her, because I had ceased to 
feel it for myself 

I waited until her sobs ceased, and then took her hand 
again. " Come, Jane," I said, " it does no good to re- 
member him. I, too, will try to forget her who has cast 
me off, and perhaps you and I may come to love each other 
after a while. But we need n't make any pretence in the 
beginning, because w^e both know better." 

Again she released her hand, but this time with a quick, 
impulsive motion. She rose from her seat and retreated 
a step from me. Her face was very pale, and her eyes 
wide with a new and unexpected expression. " Don't say 
anything more, Mr. Godfrey ! " she cried ; " I am afraid of 
you ! Oh, is all the good you 've done for me to go for noth- 
ing ? I '11 never believe this was in your mind when you 
picked me up, and set me on my feet, and put me in the 
right way again. I 've been praying God every night to 
bless you ; you seemed to me almost like one of His an- 
gels, and it 's dreadful to see the Bad Spirit looking out of 
your eyes, and putting words into your mouth. I don't 
complain because what you 've said to me hurts me ; I 've 
no right to expect anything else, — but it 's because you 've 
said it. Oh, Mr. Godfrey, don't say that it 's my fault, — 
that helping me has put such things into your head ; please, 
don't say that ! It would be the worst punishment of all ! " 

The intensity of her face, the piercing earnestness of her 
voice and words, struck me dumb. It came to my ear like 
the cry of a soul in agony, and I saw that I had here in- 
deed blasphemously tampered with a soul's immortal inter- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 413 

ests. The selfish logic by which I had endeavored to per- 
suade her fell into dust before the simple protest of her 
heart. I was too unskilled in the tactics of vice to renew 
the attack, even had I been unjjrincipled enough to desire 
it. But, in truth, I stood humiliated before her, sensible 
only of the fact that she would never more respect me. I 
had been an Angel to her artless fancy ; henceforth I should 
be a Devil. 

She w^aited for an answer to her last question, and what 
little comfort there might be in my reply shfe should have. 

" Jane," I said, " you are not accountable for what I have 
been saying. You are far better than I am. I was honest 
in trying to help you, — this was not in my mind, — but I 
won't answer for myself any longer. You are right to be 
afraid of me : I will go ! " 

I turned as I said these words, and left the room. As 
I flung the door behind me, I saw her standing by the win- 
dow, with her eyes following me. I fancied, also, that I 
heard her once more utter my name, but, even if it were 
true, I was in no mood to prolong the interview. As I 
opened the outer door hastily, I caught a glimpse of Mrs. 
Feeny dodging into the room on the other side of the pas- 
sage. 

On my way down Sullivan Street I remembered that I 
had done nothing towards reheving Mary Maloney of her 
trouble. But I soon dismissed the subject from my mind, 
resolved to let the two women settle it between themselves. 
Once in my room, I wrote a venomous sketch for the next 
number of the Oracle, and passed my evening, as usual, at 
the Ichneumon. 

Two days afterwards the bells reminded me that it was 
Christmas morn ; I had forgotten the day. I threw open 
my window, and listened to the musical clang, which came 
to my ears, crisp and sweet, through the frosty air. Hav- 
ing now more time at my disposal I had resumed my Ger- 
man studies, and the lines of Faust returned to my mind, — 



414 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" Then seemed the breath of Heavenly Love to play 
Upon my brow, in Sabbath silence hoi}"-; 
And filled with mystic presage, tolling slowly, 
The church-bell boomed, and joy it was to pray." 

Alas ! I had unlearned the habit, and the beautiful day of 
Christian jubilee awoke but a dull reverberation in my 
heart. A Merry Christmas ! Who would speak the words 
to me, not as a hollow form, but as a heart-felt wish ? 

There was a knock at my door. Mary Maloney entered 
and gave me the festive salutation. It came as a response 
to my thought, and touched my heart with a grateful soft- 
ness. She carried a thin package in her hand, and said, 
as she laid it on the table, — 

" I 've brought a Christmas for you to-day, Mr. Godfrey. 
It 's Miss Jenny's doin', and I don't mind tellin' you now, 
since she's left, that she sat up the biggest part of a night to 
get it ready. You see, sir, when I brought home your wes- 
kit, o' Wednesday, to fix the button, I said it would n't bear 
much more wearin', and you ought, by rights, to git y'rself 
a new one. With that she up and said she 'd like to make 
one herself, as a Christmas for you, and might she kape it 
and take the pattern. So she bought the stuff and hoped 
you 'd like it, and indade it 's a nate piece o' wurrk, as you 
may see." 

I cast scarcely a glance at the waistcoat, so eager was I 
to hear what had become of Jane Berry. But Mary either 
could not, or would not, give me any satisfactory news. 

" When I come home, t' other evenin'," she said, " I saw 
she 'd been cryin', and I mistrusted you 'd been havin' a 
talk with her, so I would n't add to her trouble by any 
words o' my own. And that was the night she finished the 
weskit. So next mornin' she went out airly and I did n't 
see her till nigh noon, when she had her things ready to 
laive. Says she, ' Mary, I 'm goin' away, but I sha' n't for- 
git you ; ' and says I, ' Naither will I forgit you, and I wish 
you hearty good luck, and where are you goin', for I expect 



^ 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 415 



to see you between whiles ; ' — but, says slie, ■ It 's best you 
don't come,' and ' I '11 always know where to find you,' and 
so she went off. Sure my heart ached wi' the thought of 
her, and it 's ached since, along o' Hugh. He won't be- 
lieve I dunno where she is, and glowers at me like a wild 
baste, and stays away o' nights, till I 'm fearful, when 
there 's the laist noise in the house, it may be his blessed 
body brought home on a board." 

I noticed, now, the haggard, anxious expression of the 
Irishwoman's face, and tried to encourage her "with the as- 
surance that Hugh was but a boy, and v/ould soon forget 
his disappointment. But she^ clasped her hands and 
sighed, and there was a memory of Hugh's father in her 
fixed eyes. 

After she had left the room, I picked up and inspected 
the present. It was of plain, sober-colored material, but 
very neatly and carefully made. I turned out the pockets 
and examined the lining, hoping to find some note or to- 
ken conveying a parting message. There was nothing, 
and after a few inquiries, made to satisfy my remaining 
fragment of a conscience, I gave up the search for Jane 
Berry. 

During the holiday week another incident occurred, — 
trifling in itself, but it excited a temporary interest in my 
mind. I had possession of one of the Oracle's passes to 
the Opera, and, at the close of the performance was slowly 
surging out through the lobby, with the departing crowd, 
when a familiar female voice, just in front of me, said, — 

" But you men are such flatterers, — all of you." 

"Present company excepted," replied another familiar 
voice, with a coarse, silly laugh. 

If the thick coils of black hair, dropping pomegranate 
blossoms, had not revealed to me the lady, the flirt of a 
scarlet fan over her olive shoulder made the recognition 
sure. It was Miss Levi, of course, leaning on the arm of 
— could 1 believe my eyes ? — Mr. Tracy Floyd. I kept 



416 JOHN GODFKEY'S FORTUNES. 

as close to the pair as possible, without running the risk 
of being recognized, and cocked my ear to entrap more of 
their conversation. Eavesdropping in a crowd, I believe, 
is not dishonorable. 

" It is a pleasure to hear music, under the guidance of 
such an exquisite taste as yours,'' remarked Miss Levi. 

"Ah, you think I know something about it, then ? " said 
her companion. "Deuced glad to hear it; Bell always 
used to snub me, — but a fellow may know as much as other 
people, without trying to show off all the time." 

" Certainly ; that is my idea of what a gentleman should 
be, — but how few such we meet ! " Her voice was low 
and insinuating, and the pomegranate blossoms bent 
towards his shoulder. I knew, as well as if I had stood 
before them, that all the power of her eyes was thrown 
upon his face. I could see the bit of his neck behind his 
whisker grow red with pleasure, as he straightened his 
head and stroked his moustache. 

There was a puff of cold air from the outer door, and 
she drew up the hood of her cloak. Somehow, it would 
catch in the w^ilderness of hair and flowers, and his assist- 
ance was required to adjust it to her head. Then they 
scuttled into the street, in a high state of mutual good- 
humor. 

Is it possible, I asked myself, that he has been caught in 
the trap he laid for me ? If so, I can afford to forgive him. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 417 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

WHICH SHOWS WHAT I BECAME. 

The reader may suppose that the part of my history 
most difficult to relate has already been written. If so, 
he is mistaken. It is easier to speak of an evil impulse 
which has been frustrated, than of a more venial fault which 
has actually been committed. Nay, I will go further, and 
state a fact which seems both inconsistent and unjust, — 
that the degree of our repentance for our sins is not meas- 
ured by the extent to which they violate our own accepted 
standard of morals. An act which springs from some sug- 
gestion of cowardly meanness by which we may be sur- 
prised, often troubles us far more than an act due to bold, 
rampant, selfish appetite, though the consequences of the 
latter may be, beyond comparison, more unfortunate to 
ourselves and to others. There is in most men an abstract 
idea of manhood, — whether natural or conventional I will 
not here discuss, — which has its separate conscience, 
generally, but not always, working side by side with the 
religious principle. There are fortunate beings in whom 
the circumstances of life have never separated these dis- 
tinct elements, — and such, alas ! will not understand me. 
Perhaps the record I now set down against myself will 
make the matter more intelligible. 

My circle of associates having become gradually nar- 
rowed down to Brandagee and his Oracular corps, with 
a few other habitues of the Ichneumon, who were not 
connected with the paper, — Swansford being almost the 
only old friend whom I cared to meet, — my life naturally 
27 



418 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

took on, more and more, a reckless, vagabondizing char- 
acter. The want of a basis of Faith, Patience, and Reso- 
hition, expressed itself in the commonest details of daily 
life. Mrs. De Peyster's resjDectable dinner company bored 
me to death ; even, the dishes wore the commonplace 
aspect of wholesome, insipid propriety. My stomach, like 
my brain, craved variety, piquancy, and excitement ; health 
was a secondary consideration. I ceased to make any 
computation of my earnings and to guage my expenses 
accordingly. One day I would invite Brandagee or Smith- 
ers to some restaurant with a foreign carte and a list of 
cheap .wines, and the next, perhaps, content myself with a 
lunch of black bread, Limburg cheese, and lager-beer. So 
long as I had company, the hours passed away rapidly, 
and with a careless, rollicking sense of enjoyment, but I 
shrank from being left face to face with the emptiness 
of my life. 

With regard to my support, I was sufficiently assured. 
The ten weekly dollars of Gr. Jenks were punctually forth- 
coming, since the taste for scrappy, make-believe philoso- 
phy had not yet abated, and I also took to writing bilious, 
semi-mysterious stories, after the manner of Hoffinan. 
The prospects of the Oracle were variable for the first 
few weeks: it attracted enough attention to keep up our 
hopes, and paid poorly enough to disappoint them. But, 
in one way or another, my income averaged twenty-five 
dollars a week, all of which went as fast as it came. 
When there was a temporary faUing-off, Miles was ready 
enough to give me credit, — an accommodation which I 
found so convenient and used so frequently that there 
soon came a day when the very slender hoard I had 
spared was exhausted, and my bill for a fortnight's board 
in Bleecker Street still unpaid. 

The evening on which I made this discovery, there hap- 
pened to be an unusually large and jovial party in the 
Cave. I was in little humor for festivity : the recollection 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 419 

of Mrs. De Peyster's keen, suspicious glance, as she passed 
me on the stairs that afternoon, made me feel very uncom- 
fortable, and I resolved to deny myself some indulgences 
which had grown to be almost indispensable, rather than 
encounter it a second time. Hitherto I had played some- 
thing of an ostentatious part among my comrades, — had 
been congratulated on the evidences of my success, — and 
it was hard to confess that the part was now played out, 
and the sham velvet and tinsel spangles laid aside. I slunk 
into a corner and tried to appear occupied with a news- 
paper ; but it was not long before Brandagee scented my 
depression. 

"Hallo, Godfrey, what's the matter?" he cried, slap- 
ping me on the shoulder. "Ha! do I read the signs 
aright ? Thou hast met the Dweller of the Threshold ! " 

I did not care to bandy burlesque expressions with him, 
and was too listless to defend myself from his probing eye ; 
so I took him aside and told him my difficulty. 

" Pshaw ! " said he, " you are too innocent for this world. 
If I had the money I 'd lend it to you at once, since you 're 
so eager to feed the vultures ; but I had the devil's own 
luck at vingt-et-un last night. Go to Jenks or Babcock, 
and get an advance ; it 's what every fellow is forced to do 
sometimes. Meanwhile, Miles will chalk your back for all 
you want .to-night. Come, don't spoil the fun : that idea 
we developed last week was worth a hundred dollars, Bab- 
cock says. Two or three more such, and the Oracle is a 
made paper." 

The " idea " of which he spoke was neither more nor 
less than a minute description of the costumes of various 
ladies at a grand private ball in Fifth Avenue, to which 
Brandagee had procured an invitation. It was written 
with a great apparent familiarity with the subject, and a 
reference to the dresses of the ladies of the Parisian 
noblesse, in a style breathing at once flattery and admo- 
nition. " You have done very well, this time," it seemed 



420 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

to say, " but take care, — I know all about it, and am on 
the look out for mistakes." Its publication was followed 
by greatly increased orders for The Oracle from up-town 
bookstores and newspaper stands. The musical criticisms, 
though much more cleverly done, failed to make anything 
like an equal sensation. 

I succumbed to Brandagee's mingled raillery and per- 
suasion, and entered my name on Miles's books. The 
circle joyfully opened to receive me, and in five minutes 

— so powerful is the magnetism of such company — no 
one w^as gayer and more reckless than I. We fell into 
discussing new devices for attracting attention to the paper, 

— some serious, some ironical, but all more or less shrewd 
and humorous. In fact, I have often thought, since those 
days, that a keen, wide-awake, practical man might have 
found, almost any evening, the germ of a successful enter- 
prise among the random suggestions and speculations 
which we threw together. 

" One thing is wanting yet," said Smithers, " and I 'm 
a little surprised that it has n't occurred to you, Bran- 



" Speak, Behemoth ! " exclaimed the latter. 

" Abuse. Not in a general way, — but personal. Take 
some well-known individual, — merchant, author, artist, pol- 
itician, — it makes no difference, — and prick him deep 
enough to make him cry out. His enemies will all want 
to read the attack, in order to enjoy it, and his friends, out 
of a sympathetic curiosity. Men are made fools through 
the morbid sensitiveness which follows culture ; their epi- 
dermis is as thin as the lining of an egg-shell. Take 
the strong, working-classes with their tanned, leathery 
hide " 

" Stop, there ! " Brandagee interrupted. " I 've got your 
suggestion, and we can dispense with your 'longshoremen. 
I have thought of the matter, but Babcock is fidgety. 
One's pen must be split to a hair, in order to sting and 



JOHN GODFREY'S FOETUNES. 421 

tickle just up to the edge of a personal assault or a libel 
suit, and not go over the line. I 'd like to see you try it, 
Smithers, with a nib as broad as your foot. I rather think 
you 'd have a chance of finding out the thickness of your 
epidermis." 

Nevertheless, it was the general opinion that the propo- 
sition was worth considering. Several individuals even 
were suggested as appropriate subjects, but on Brandagee 
hinting that the suggester should first try his hand, the 
enthusiasm cooled very suddenly. Finally, it was decided 
to hold the plan in reserve. 

" But," said Brandagee, " we must fix on some expedient. 
Heavens and earth ! is all our inventive talent exhausted ? 
We might find a new poet, of wonderful promise, or a 
pert female correspondent, with an alliterative horticultural 
name, such as Helen Honeysuckle or Belinda Boneset, but 
I don't know which of you could keep up the part suc- 
cessfully, and my hands are full. Then we must have a 
department of " Answers to Correspondents," at least two 
columns long ; replies to imaginary queries on every sub- 
ject under the Zodiac, — love, medicine, history, eclipses, 
cookery, Marie Stuart, and Billy Patterson. You fellows 
might do that while you are loafing here. There is nothing 
in the world easier to do, as for instance : ' Rosalie, — K 
the young gentleman, after picking up your pocket-hand- 
kerchief, put it into his own pocket instead of returning 
it to you, we should interpret the act as a sign of attach- 
ment. Should you desire a further test, ask him for it, 
and if he blushes, he is yours.' " 

This suggestion met with great applause. We all went 
to work, and in the course of an hour concocted a number 
of answers. The reporter of the Avenger, who was accus- 
tomed to manufacture correspondence from various parts 
of the world, was called upon to write letters from Boston 
and Philadelphia, describing the sensation which the Oracle 
had produced in those cities ; and by midnight, at which 



422 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

hour the atmosphere of the Cave was usually opaque, and 
the tongues of some of its occuiDants incoherent, we were 
all assured of the speedy triumj^h of our scheme. 

I woke late next morning to an uncomfortable sense of 
my empty pockets. The excitement of the previous even- 
ing was followed by a corresponding depression, and I had 
no courage to face Mrs. De Peyster. I did not go down to 
breakfast, but waited until I felt sure that she would be 
occupied by the supervision of her household, and then 
quietly slipped out of the house. 

There was no alternative but to adopt Brandagee's hint 
and solicit an advance from either Mr. Babcock or Mr. 
Jenks. The former gentleman being the more cultivated 
of the two, although I had had but little personal intercourse 
with him, he received my first visit. I proffered my re- 
quest with a disgusting presentiment that it would be re- 
fused, — and the event proved that I was correct. It would 
be a violation of his business-habits, he said : still, if I 
were in immediate want of the sum, he might make an 
exception, if Mr. Brandagee had not just obtained an ad- 
vance of fifty dollars ! Since the paper could not yet be 
considered firmly estabhshed, he did not feel himself justi- 
fied in anticipating the outlay to any further extent. 

I now wended my way to the office of Mr. Jenks, and, 
knowing the man, put on a bolder face. It was not pleasant 
to ask a favor of him, but I could offer him security in the 
shape of article^ ; it would be simply anticipating the sums 
which would afterwards be due. After a good deal of 
hesitation, he consented, and I thus regained my good 
standing with Mrs. De Peyster, by cutting off a part of 
my future income. In the mean time, however, I had laid 
the basis of a new account with Miles, and thus commenced 
a see-saw of debt which kept me in continual agitation. 
When I was up on one side, I was down on the other, and 
each payment simply shifted my position. The disagreeable 
novelty of the experience soon wore off, and the shifts and 



JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 423 

manoeuvres which at first were so repulsive became endur- 
able from habit, ^lien, after days of incessant worry, 
money came into my hands, I could not deny myself some 
coveted indulgence as a compensation. The former justi- 
fied the latter, and the latter brought the former again into 
play. 

I became, after a time, subject to extreme fluctuations 
of feeling. In moments of excitement, I experienced an 
exaltation of spirits, in which my difficulties and disappoint- 
ments ceased to exist. I was elevated above the judgment 
of my fellow-men ; I had courage to kick aside the tram- 
mels which inclosed them, and to taste a freedom which 
they were incompetent to enjoy. This condition was a 
substitute for happiness, which I mistook for the genuine 
article ; I clung to it desperately when I felt the light fading 
and ;he colors growing dull, and the gray, blank fog drop- 
ping down from the sky. Then succeeded the state of 
aunless apathy, when my days seemed weighted with a 
weariness beyond my strength to bear. I could not fill the 
void space in my heart, once glowing with the security of 
Fdth and the brightness of Love. I spread my coveted 
sense of Freedom^ver the gulf, but it would not be hidden ; 
I dropped into it every indulged delight of appetite, only 
to hear a hollower clang. My principal satisfaction — or 
wliat seemed such — was in the belief that other men 
differed from myself only in hypocrisy, — outwardly ap- 
pearing to obey laws they scoffed, and carefully concealing 
their secret trespasses. 

But little more than two months had elapsed before I 
was forced into the conviction that my prospects were be- 
coming precarious. The sales of the Oracle began to fall 
off; the paper was diminished in size, in order to reduce 
expenses, while professing (editorially) to be swimming 
along on a flood-tide of success, and the remuneration for 
my articles not only diminished in proportion, but was re- 
luctantly paid. The final resource of personal abuse had 



424 JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 

been tried, and Brandagee must have been mistaken in the 
fine quality of his pen, for the immediate result was a libel 
suit, which so frightened Mr. Babcock that he insisted on 
avoiding it by retraction and apology. I had enough of 
experience to know that this was the death-knell of the 
enterprise, and was not deceived (neither was Brandagee, 
I think) by the galvanic imitation of life which remained. 

About the same time my see-saw became so delicately 
poised that I lost my balance. My debt to Mrs. De Pey- 
ster had again accumulated ; her eyes were not only coldly 
suspicious, but her tongue dropped hints which made me 
both angry and ashamed. I determined to leave her house 
as soon as it was possible to settle the account ; but it was 
not possible, and, utterly unable to endure my situation, 
I put a single shirt and my toilet articles into my pocket, 
and leaving the rest of my effects behind, walked away. 
There was a miserable attic, miserably furnished, in Crosby 
Street, not far from the Ichneumon, to be had for five dol- 
lars a month, paid in advance. This was cheap enough, 
provided I could raise the five dollars. I remembered my 
loan of that amount to Brandagee, and asked him to return 
it. 

" My dear fellow," said he, " I thought you understood 
. that I never pay a loan. It would be ridiculous to contra- 
dict my principles in that way." 

" Then," said I, " lend me the same amount." 

" Ah, you put the matter in a more sensible form. I '11 
lend you five, or five hundred, as soon as I get it ; but be- 
hold ! " 

He turned his pockets inside out. 

I plainly told him what I had done, and that I was now 
without a penny to buy a meal or pay for a lodging. 

" That 's rather a bore," said he, coolly, " the first time 
you try it — but one gets used to it, like anything else. 
It 's a seasoning that will do you no harm, Godfrey ; I 've 
been ground in that mill a dozen times, I presume. It 



JOHN GODFKEY'S FORTUNES. A25 

would amuse you to hear of some of the dodges I 've been 
up to. Did I ever tell you about that time in Rome ? " 

I would not stop to hear his story, but left in a high state 
of exasperation. There remained one friend, who would 
help me if he could, though he straitened himself thereby. 
I had not seen him for some weeks, and felt, I am glad to 
say, a good deal of shame at seeking him now only to make 
use of him. I hurried across to Hester Street, and was 
about to ring the bell at Mrs. Very's door when it opened 
and he came out. I was shocked to see how his eyes had 
sunk and how hollow and transparent his cheeks had grown ; 
but something of the old brightness returned when he saw 
me, and his voice had the old tone as he said, — 

" I was afraid you had forgotten me, Godfrey." 

" I have only been busy, Swansford, but I mean to make 
up for my neglect. You '11 think I take a strange way of 
doing it to-day, when I tell you that I come for help." 

" And you so much stronger than I ? " 

" Not half so strong, Swansford. Here, in this pocket 
over the heart, and in all the others, animation is suspended. 
Can you lend me ten dollars for a day or two ? " 

I had known of his more than once sending: that amount 
to his mother or sister, and supposed that he might have 
it on hand. The delay of a day or two, until I should re- 
pay hun, would make little difference. 

" I can," said he, after a moment's reflection, " but it will 
take about all I have. However, I can get along for two 
days — or three — without it. I hope you have not been 
unfortunate, Godfrey ? " 

Swansford had thought me wrong in giving up my situa- 
tion in the Wonder office, and all my assurances of plentiful 
earnings afterwards had not reconciled him to the step. 
My present application seemed to justify his doubt, and 
this thought, I fancied, prompted his question. Not yet, 
however, could I confess to him — since I stubbornly re- 
fused to confess to myself — the mistake I had made. 



426 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" Oh, no," I said, assuming a gay, careless air. " I have 
been lending, too, and find myself unexpectedly short. In 
a day or two I shall be all right again." 

Dear old fellow — how relieved he looked ! I tried to 
persuade myself, for his sake, that I had spoken the truth ; 
and, indeed, a little effort placed my condition in a much 
less gloomy light. My expenses, I reasoned, w^ould now be 
reduced to the minimum ; half the sum would give me 
lodging for a month, and the remaining half would supply 
me with food for a fortnight, in which time I could earn, 
not only enough to repay the loan but to relieve me from the 
necessity of making another. It would be necessary, how- 
ever, to give up my dissipated way of life, and this I virtu- 
ously resolved to do — for a few weeks. 

Swansford was on his way to give a music-lesson in Rut- 
gers Street, but first went back to his room to get the money. 
I accompanied him, and could not help noticing how ex- 
hausted he appeared after mounting the last flight of steps. 
He dropped into a chair, panting ; then, seeing my anxious 
look, said in a feeble voice, — 

" It 's nothing, -Godfrey. I 've been working a little too 
hard this winter. The symphony, you know, — it 's nearly 
finished, and I can't rest, now, until I 've written the last bar. 
I wish I had time to play it to you." 

" You shall let me have the whole of it, Swansford. 
And I '11 bring Brandagee, who must write an article about 
it. He is always on the lookout for something new, and no- 
body better understands how to make a sensation. You '11 
be a famous man before you 're six months older ! " 

A quick, bright spark flashed from his eyes, but instantly 
faded, leaving a faint, sad smile behind it. He sighed and 
murmured to himself, " I don't know." Then he gave me 
the money. I felt my hand trembling as I took it, but this 
might have been the faintness of hunger. I had eaten 
nothing for twenty-four hours. 

On reaching the Bowery, I went into the first cellar and 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 427 

strengthened myself with a beafsteak and a bottle of ale. 
Then I secured the attic for a month, purchased writing 
materials and sat down with the firm resolution to complete 
a sensational story before allowing myself a moment's pause, 
except for sleep. It was a dark, raw day of early March ; 
there was no fire in the shabby room, and the dull daylight 
became almost dusk after passing through the unwashed 
panes. I had no table, but the rickety wash-stand would 
answer the purpose, and there was a single wooden chair. 
The meat and drink had warmed me, and thus, with my 
over-coat on my back, and the ragged bed-quilt, breaking 
out in spots of cotton eruption, over my knees, I commenced 
the work with a tolerable stock of courage. My subject 
was of the ghastly order, and admitted of an extravagant 
treatment, for which I was in the most congenial mood. 
Page after page of manuscript was written and cast aside, 
until the pen dropped from my benumbed fingers, and the 
chill from my icy feet crept up my legs and sent shudders 
through my body. 

It was now dusk outside, and would soon be darkness 
within. The sense of my forlorn, wretched condition re- 
turned upon me, and the image of the Cave, with its com- 
fortable warmth and its supply of mental and physical 
stimulus, came to tempt me away. But no, for Swansford's 
sake I would renounce even this indulgence. I would go 
out and walk the streets, to thaw my frozen blood, and ar- 
range, in my brain, the remainder of my task. 

How long I walked I cannot tell. I have an impression 
of having three times heard the wind sweeping through 
the leafless trees on the Battery, and as often through the 
trees in Union Square ; but my mind was so concentrated 
upon the wild, morbid details of my story that they held it 
fast when I had grown weary of the subject, and would 
gladly have escaped it. Then I went to bed, to start and 
toss all night in that excited condition which resembles de- 
lirium rather than sleep, and leaves exhaustion instead of 
refreshment behind it. 



428 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

By noon the next day the task was completed, and I left 
it in the hands of the editor of a popular magazine in 
which a few of my sketches had already appeared. I 
should have to wait a day or two for his decision ; my 
brain, fagged by the strain upon it, refused to suggest a 
new theme, and yet my time was a blank which must be 
somehow filled. The flame of my good resolution burned 
lower and lower, — gave a final convulsive flicker as I 
passed the door of the Ichneumon, — went out, and I 
turned back and entered. Did I think of Swansford as 
the door closed behind me ? Alas ! I fear not. I only felt 
the warm atmosphere envelop me like a protecting mantle ; 
I only heard, in the jovial voices which Avelcomed my com- 
ing, release from the loneliness I could no longer endure. 

The season of late, bitter cold which followed seemed, 
like a Nemesis, to drive me back upon my vagabond life, 
and every other circumstance combined to fasten me in its 
meshes. By the time the editor had decided to accept my 
story, the sum I received for it was balanced by Miles's bill. 
He knew as well when there was money in my pocket as if 
he had counted it, and a refusal to pay would have shut me 
out from my only place of refuge. Jenks would no longer 
advance upon my articles, but began to hint that they now 
ceased to meet the popular taste. He thought of engaging 
one of the comic writers, whose misspelled epistles were in 
great demand, at a hundred dollars a week ; it would pay 
better than ten for mine, — there was too much " cut and 
slash " in the latter. I saw what was coming. 

Brandagee — against whose avowed selfishness, backed 
as it was by his powers of raillery, my indignation could 
not maintain itself — furnished me, now and then, with a 
morsel of occupation. But what an occupation it was for 
one who, three years before, had determined to write his 
name among the laurelled bards ! I was to furnish poetic 
advertisements for the manufacturer of a new dentifrice ! 
Once the imagined brother of Irving, Bryant, and Longfel- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 429 

low, I now found myself the rival of Napoleon B. Quigg 
and Julia Carey Reinhardt ! I had reached, indeed, the 
lowest pit of literature, — but, no ! there is a crypt under 
this, whose workers are unknown and whose works hide 
themselves in " sealed envelopes." Let that be a comfort 
to me! 

I could not think of the manner in which I had sneaked 
away from Mrs. De Peyster, and deceived Swansford, with- 
out a pang of self-contempt. It has cost me no little effort 
to record my own humiliation, but I dare not mutilate the 
story of my fortunes. If the pure, unselfish aspirations of 
my early youth had been allowed to realize themselves in 
one smooth, unchecked flow of prosperity, I should have no 
story to relate. In an artistic sense I am my own hero, — 
but, — 

" What I seem to myself, do you ask of me ? 
No hero, I confess." 



430 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



) CHAPTER XXXIV. 

IN WHICH I HEAR FOOTSTEPS. 

If the manner of life I have just described had come 
upon me naturally, through some radical deficiency of prin- 
ciple, I should have carelessly and easily adapted myself to 
it. I have known men who w^ere always cheerful under 
similar embarrassments, and who enjoyed as well as ad- 
mired the adroitness of their expedients of relief Such are 
the true Zingari of a high civilization, who pitch the tent, 
light the camp-fire, and plunder the hen-roost, in the midst 
of great cities. They are born with the brown blood in 
their veins, and are drawn together by its lawless instinct. 

I, however, had been pushed out of that sphere of order 
in which my nature properly belonged, partly by the shock 
of cruel disappointments and partly by the revolt of appe- 
tites common to every young man whose blood is warm and 
whose imagination is lively. When the keen edge of the 
former and the rampant exultation of the latter began to 
be dulled, there was no satisfaction left to me, except in 
forgetfulness of my former self I heard, from time to time, 
the whispers of duty and the groans of conscience, and felt 
that if the two antagonistic powers within me were allowed 
to come together in a fresh struggle, the result would be — 
Despair. With my present knowledge I see that such a 
struggle was inevitable, — that a crisis was embraced in the 
very nature of my disease, — but then I only craved peace, 
and eagerly swallowed every moral narcotic which promised 
to bring it. 

There were already symptoms of Spring, when my month 



JOHI^" GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 431 

in the attic drew to an end. Days of perfect sunshine and 
delicious air fell upon the city, mellowing its roaring noises, 
softening into lilac and violet the red vistas of its streets, 
touching its marbles with golden gleams, and coaxing the 
quick emerald of the grass to its scattered squares. Most 
unhappy were such days to me, for the tender prophecies 
of the season forced my thoughts to the future, and into 
that blank I could not look without dismay. 

By this time my condition was indeed wretched. My 
single suit of clothes grew shabby from constant wear, and 
my two shirts, even with the aid of paper-collars, failed to 
meet the requirements of decency. I had previously been 
scrupulously neat in my dress, but now I was more than 
slovenly, and I saw the reflection of this change in the 
manners of my associates. My degradation expressed it- 
self in my garments, and covered me from head to foot, 
touching the surface of my nature in every point as they 
touched my skin. 

^ For another month's rent of my lodging I depended on 
the six dollars which I was to receive for three poems in- 
spired by the new dentrifice. The arrangement with the 
proprietor of this article had been made by Brandagee, who 
stated that he had a contract for furnishing the literature. 
He took to himself some credit for allov;ing me a portion 
of the work. I was anxious to meet hun before evening, 
as Miles had a bill of some two dollars against me, and the 
most important debt must be first paid ; but I visited all 
of Brandagee's usual haunts in vain. Tired at last, and 
quite desperate, I betook myself to the Cave and awaited 
his coming. 

Any combination of circumstances which one specially 
fears, is almost sure to occur. My account at the Ichneu- 
mon was settled, as I had anticipated, and there was not 
enough left for the advance on my lodgings. Brandagee 
was in an ill-humor, and paid no attention to my excited 
representations of my condition. 



432 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" I tell you what, Godfrey ! " he exclauned ; " it 's ridicu- 
lous to make a fuss about such trifles when one of the 
best-planned schemes ever set a-foot is frustrated. Do 
you know that the Oracle is laid out, stark and stiff? The 
next number will be the last, and I 've a mind to leave one 
side blank, as a decent shroud to spread over its corpse. 
Babcock swears he 's sunk three thousand dollars, as if a 
paper must n't always sink five in the beginning to gain 
twenty-five in the end ! If he had kept it up one year, as 
I insisted upon his doing, it would have proved a fortune 
for him and all of us." 

I was not surprised at this announcement, nor was I par- 
ticularly grieved, since the emoluments promised to me at 
the start had never been forthcoming. After a few pota- 
tions, Brandagee recovered his spirits, and made merry 
over the demise of his great scheme. He jDroposed sub- 
stituting the title of " Catacombs " for the Cave of Tro- 
phonius, and declared his intention of having a funeral 
inscription placed over the chimney-piece. 

" Du Moulin," he said, — " you know him, — the author 
of ' La Fille Egaree^ — always buried his unsuccessful 
works in the family cemetery. I spent a week with him 
once, at his chateau near Orleans, and he . took me to see 
the place. There they were in a row, mixed together, — 
the children of the brain and the children of the body. 
First Elise, a little daughter ; then ' Henriette,' a novel, 
with ' still-born,' on the tombstone ; then his son Adolphe, 
and then the tragedy of ' Memnon,' the failure of which 
he ascribed to the jealousy of a rival author, so he had 
inscribed on the stone, ' assassine ! ' But only one imper- 
sonation of my plan dies with the Oracle, — there must be 
another avatar ! There is no reason under heaven why I 
should not be as successful here as Fiorentino. in Paris. I 
shall have to adopt his tactics, — work through the papers 
already established instead of setting up a new one. I am 
tolerably sure of the Monitor and the Avenger, and I might 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 433 

have the Wonder also, if you had not been such a fool as 
to give up your place on it, Godfrey." 

" It was your representations that led me to do it ! " I 
angrily retorted. 

" Come, come, don't charge me with your own greenness ! 
If a fellow takes my assertions for his guide, he '11 have a 
devilish zigzag to run. I suspect you 've been trying to 
strike a diagonal betvv^een morality and enjoyment, and 
have spoiled yourself for either. But it may be possible 
to get back your place : I always thought Old Clarendon 
had a sort of patronizing liking for you." 

I knew what Brandagee's object was, — for what use he 
designed me, and feared the consummate dexterity of his 
tongue. There was something utterly repulsive to me in 
the idea of going back and humiliating myself before Mr. 
Clarendon, in order to insinuate articles intended to extort 
black-mail, — for Brandagee's " great " scheme meant noth- 
ing else, — into the columns of his paper. Yet, after what 
had happened, I no longer felt sure of myself. 

For the first time in my life, I deliberately resolved to 
escape at once from my self-loathing and from this new 
temptation, by the intoxication of wine. In all my previ- 
ous indulgence, — even when surrounded by a reckless and 
joyously-excited company, — I had never lost the control 
of brain or body. Some protecting instinct either held me 
back from excess, or neutralized its effects. I knew the 
stages of exhilaration, of confidence, of tenderness, and of 
boastful vanity, — but further than those vestibules, I had 
never entered the House of Circe. 

I ordered a bottle of Sauterne — my favorite wine — 
and began to drink. I fancy Brandagee guessed the secret 
of this movement, and believed that it would deliver me 
the more easily into his hands. But I cannot be sure ; my 
recollection of the commencement of the evening is made 
indistinct by the event with which it closed. There were, 
at first, tv^^o other persons present, — Mears and one of the 

28 



434 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

comic writers, — and I do not know precisely at what hour 
they left, but I know that Brandagee waited until then to 
commence his attack. 

I finished one bottle and was half-way down the second 
before I* felt any positive effect from the beverage. Then, 
although my feet and hands glowed, and the humming of 
the quickened blood in my veins was audible in my ears, 
my mind seemed to brood, undisturbed and stern, above 
tlie tumult. The delicate flavor of the wine faded on my 
palate ; a numbness, resembling a partial paralysis, crept 
over my body, — but in my brain the atmosphere grew 
more quiet, sober, and gloomy. The mysterious telegraph 
which carries the commands of the will to the obedient 
muscles seemed to be out of order, — I had lost, not the 
power, but the knowledge of using it. I sat like the En- 
chanted Prince, half marble, and my remaining senses 
grew keener from their compression. My mental vision 
turned inwards and was fixed upon myself with wonderful 
sharpness and power. Brandagee commenced his prom- 
ises and persuasions, deceived by my silence, and not 
dreaming how little I heeded them. I heard his voice, 
thrust far away by the intentness of my thoughts, and 
nodded or assented mechanically from time to time. To 
talk — much less discuss the matter with him — was im- 
possible. 

I was in a condition resembling catalepsy rather than 
intoxication. While perfectly aware of external sounds 
and sights, I was apparently dead to them in that luminous 
revelation of my own nature which I was forced to read. 
I saw myself as some serene-eyed angel might have seen, 
with every white virtue balanced by its shadowed vice, 
every deviation from the straight, manly line of life laid 
bare in a blaze of light, I recognized what a part vanity 
had played in my fortunes, — with what cowardice I had 
shrunk from unwelcome truths, instead of endeavoring to 
assimilate their tonic bitterness, — and, above all, how con- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 435 

temptible had been the results of indulgence compared 
with the joyous release I had anticipated. It was a pas- 
sionless, objective survey, which overlooked even the fluc- 
tuations of my feelings, and curiously probed the very 
wounds it gave. 

I saw, further, that I had been miserably weak in allow- 
ing three circumstances — important as was their bearing 
on my happiness — to derange the ordered course of my 
life, and plunge me into ruin. For a youth whose only 
gifts were a loving heart, a sanguine temperament, and an 
easy, fluent power of expression, I had not been unsuccess- 
ful. I rather wondered now, perceiving my early igno- 
rance, that so few obstacles had been thrown in my way. 
I supposed that I had performed marvels of energy, but 
here I had failed in the first test of my strength as a man. 
If Isabel Haworth had unjustly repulsed me, I had since 
then justified her act a hundred times. | Fool and coward, 
— aspiring to be author, lover, man ; yet flinging aside, at 
the start, that patience without which either title is impos- 
sible ! 

I saw clearly, I say, what I had become — but my clair- 
voyance went no further. There was the void space whence 
I had torn my belief in human honesty and affection, and 
close beside it that more awful chamber, once bright with 
undoubting reliance on The Father and His Wisdom, but 
now filled with a twilight which did not dare to become 
darkness. How was I to restore these shattered faiths, and, 
through them, my shattered life ? This was the question 
which still mocked me. It seemed that I was condemned 
to behold myself forever in a mirror the painful brightness 
of which blinded me to everything else. 

I had placed my elbows on the table and rested my face 
on my hands while undergoing this experience. It was 
late in the night. I had ceased to hear Brandagee's voice, 
or even to think of it, when, little by little, its tones, in con- 
versation with some one else, forced themselves upon my 
ear. 



436 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" I tell you it 's trying to shirk your agreement," he said, 
" when I 've done my part. I 've almost made your fortune 
already." 

" Not as I knows on, you ha 'n't ! " replied another voice, 
which I recognized as belonging to Miles. " It 'ardly pays 
me. Leastways the profits on the gents you brings 'ere 
don't begin to pay for your drinks any longer.* It won't do, 
Mr. Brandagee." 

" Why, this one here has put six dollars into your pocket 
to-night." 

" Can't 'e 'ear you ? " whispered Miles. 

" No : he 's drunk as a loon. Godfrey ! " 

He called in a low tone, then louder, — " Godfrey ! " I 
do not believe I could have answered, if I had tried. My 
jaws were locked. 

" They 'd spend more if you 'd pay 'em more," Miles con- 
tinued. " I 'eard y'r bargain about the tooth-powder that 
day Dr. What's-'is-name was 'ere — five dollars apiece, it 
was, and you gives '^m there two, and puts three in your 
hown pocket. Them three 'd be spent 'ere, if you hacted 
fairly. Besides, it was n't understood that you were to 
come and drink free, hevery day. I would n't ha' made 
that sort of a bargain ; I knows 'ow much you can 'old." 

Brandagee laughed and said, — " Well, well, I shall not 
come so often in future. Perhaps not at all. There 's a 
good fellow going to open in Spring Street, and he thinks 
of calling his place the Ornithorhyncus paradoxus, — the 
name you would n't have. Miles. If he does, it 's likely we 
shall go there." 

Miles hemmed and coughed ; he evidently disliked this 
suggestion. " There goes the door," he said, — " somebody 
for the bar. Come out and we '11 'ave a brandy together 
before you go." 

The disclosure of Brandagee's meanness which I had 
just heard scarcely excited a ripple of surprise or indig- 
nation on the fixed, glassy surface of my consciousness. 



JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 437 

Wearied with the contemplation of my own faihire, all my 
faculties united themselves in a desperate craving for help, 
until this condition supplanted the former and grew to the 
same intensity. 

Presently Brandagee rose and went into the bar-room, 
and I was left alone. In the silence my feeling became a 
prayer. I struggled to find the trace of some path which 
might lead me out of the evil labyrinth, — but I could not 
think or reason : it was blind, agonizing groping in the 
dark. 

Suddenly, I knew not how or where, a single point of 
light shot out of the gloom. It revealed nothing, but I 
trembled lest I was deceived by my own sensations, and 
was beginning to hope in vain. Far away, — somewhere 
in remote space, it seemed, — I heard the faint sound of a 
footstep. I could count its regular fall, like the beating of 
a slow, strong pulse ; I waited breathlessly, striving to hold 
back the dull, rapid throb of my heart, lest I should lose 
the sound. But the sense of light grew, spreading out in 
soft- radiations from the starry point, and, as it grew, the 
sound of the footsteps seemed to draw nearer. A strange 
excitement possessed me. I lifted my head from my 
hands, placed a hollow palm behind my ear, and threw 
my whole soul into that single sense. Still I heard the 
sound, — distant, but clearly audible in its faintly ringing 
beat, and clung to it as if its cessation were the beginning 
of deeper disgrace, and its approach that of a regenerated 
life ! 

It could not have been two minutes — but an age of sus- 
pense was compressed into the brief period — while I thus 
sat and listened. A voice within me cried out, " It is for 
me ! Do not let it pass, — rise and go to meet it ! " My 
marble enchantment was broken ; I sprang to my feet, 
seized my hat, and hastened out of the Cave. Miles and 
Brandagee, with each a steaming glass in hand, were 
lounging against the bar. The latter called to me as' I 



438 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

passed, but I paid no heed to him. Both of them laughed 
as the street-door closed behind me. 

It was a cool, windless, starry night. The bells were 
striking midnight, and I set my teeth and clenched my fists 
with impatience for the vibration of the last stroke to cease 
that I might listen again for the footstep. One such sound, 
indeed, I heard between the strokes, — a man coming down 
the opposite side of the street, but it was not the step I 
awaited : it was too light and quick. When he had gone 
by and only the confused sounds of the night, far or near, 
stirred the air, I caught again the familiar footfall. It 
appeared to be approaching Crosby Street from Broadway, 
through the next cross-street below. I was sure it was 
the same : there was no mistaking the strong, slow, even 
march, slightly ringing on the flagged sidewalk. What 
would it bring to me ? 

Nearer and nearer, — but I could not advance to meet 
it. I waited, with fast-beating heart, under the lamp, and 
counted every step until I felt that the next one would 
bring the man into view. It came, — he was there ! He 
made two stejDS forward, as if intending to keep the cross- 
street, — paused, and presently turned up the sidewalk 
towards me. My eyes devoured his figure, but there was 
nothing about it which I recognized. A strong, broad- 
shouldered man, moderately tall, with his head bent for- 
ward as if in meditation, and his pace as regular as the tick 
of a watch. Once he lifted his head and looked towards 
me, and I saw the outline of a bushy whisker on each side 
of his face. 

In three seconds more he would pass me. I stood mo- 
tionless, in the middle of the sidewalk, awaiting his coming. 
One step, — two, — three, and he was upon me. He cast 
a quick glance towards me, swerved a little from his 
straight course, and strode past. " Fool ! fool ! " I cried to 
myself, bitterly. As I did so, the footstep paused. I 
turned and saw him also turn and step rapidly back 



JOHX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 439 

towards me. His head was lifted and he looked keenly 
and curiously into my face. 

" Why, John — John Godfrey, is it you ? " 

He had me by both hands before the words were out of 
his mouth. One clear view of that broad, homely, manly 
face in the lamplight, and I cried, in a voice full of joy and 
tears, — 

" Bob Simmons ! Dear old friend, God has sent you to 
save me ! " 

Bob Simmons, my boyish comrade, whom I had almost 
forgotten ! In the Providence which led him to me at that 
hour and in that crisis of my fortunes, my fears of a blind 
Chance, or a baleful, pursuing Fate, were struck down for- 
ever. Light came back to the dusky chamber of my heart, 
and substance to the void space. I prefer not to think that 
my restoration to health Vv^as already assured by the previ- 
ous struggle through which my mind had passed, — that 
from the clearer comprehension of myself, I should have 
worked up again by some other path. It is pleasant to 
remember that the hand of a brother-man lent its strength 
to mine, and to believe that it was the chosen instrument 
of my redemption from evil ways. 

My excited, almost hysterical condition was incompre- 
hensible to Bob. I savf the gladness in his eyes change to 
wonder and tender sympathy. The next instant, I thought, 
he must see the debasement which was written all over me. 

" Bob," I said, " don't leave me, now that I have found 
you again ! " There was a noise of footsteps in the bar- 
room of the Ichneumon : Brandaoree was coming. Still 
holding the hand of my friend, I hurried him up the street. 

" Where do you live, John ? " he asked. 

" Nowhere ! I am a vagabond. Oh, Bob, you carried me 
once in your arms when I fell out of the apple-tree ; give 
me your hand, at least, now, when I need your help so 
much more than then I " 

Bob said nothing, but his hard fingers crushed mine in 



440 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

a long grasp. Then he took my arm, and resuming his 
steady stride, bore me with him through Prince Street into 
the Bowery, and a long distance down Stanton Street. 
Finally he stopped before a house, — one of a cheaply- 
built, uniform block, — opened . the door with a night-key, 
and drew me after him. After some dark groping up stair- 
cases, I found myself in a rear room. He found a match, 
lighted a candle, and I saw a small, modest apartment, 
befitting, in its simple appointments, the habits of a labor- 
ing man, but really luxurious in contrast to the shabby attic 
in "which I had been housed. 

" There ! " he exclaimed, " these is my quarters, sich as 
they are. None too big, but you 're welcome to your share 
of 'em. It 's a long time, John, since you and me slept 
together at th' old farm. Both of us is changed, but I 'd 
ha' knowed you anywheres." 
'\ " It is a long time. Bob. I v/ish I could go back to it 
again. Do you recollect what you said to me when we 
were boys, just thinking of making our start in the world ? 
It was my head against your hands ; look, now, to what my 
head has brought me ! " 

Partly from shame and self-pity, partly also from the 
delayed effect of the wine I had drunk, I burst into tears. 
Poor Bob was inexpressibly grieved. He drew me to the 
little bed, sat down beside me, put his arm around me, and 
tried to comfort me in the way which first occurred to his 
simple nature, by diminishing the force of the contrast. 

" Never mind, John," he said. " My hands ha'n't done 
nothin' yit worth mentionin'. I a'n't boss, only foreman, — 
a sort o' head-journeyman, you know. There 's the stuff in 
you for a dozen men like me." 
, I laid my head upon his shoulder with the grateful sense 
of reliance and protecting strength which, I imagine, must 
be the bliss of a woman's heart when she first feels herself 
clasped by the arms of the man she loves. Presently I 
grew calm again, and commenced the confession of my life, 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 441 

which, from beginning to end, I was determined that Bob 
should hear. But I had not made much progress in it, be- 
fore I felt that I was growing deathly faint and sick, and 
my words turned to moans of distress. 

Bob poured some water on a towel and bathed my head, 
then helped me to undress and laid me in his bed. I re- 
member only that, some time afterwards, he lay down beside 
me ; that, thinking me asleep^ he tpnderly placed his hand 
on my brow and smoothed back my ruffled hair ; that a 
feeling of gratitude struck, like a soft, sweet pang, through 
the sensation of my physical wretchedness, — and then a 
gray blank succeeded. 

When I awoke, it was daylight. I turned on my pillow, 
saw that Bob had gone and that the rolling curtain had 
been drawn down before the window. My head was pierced 
with a splitting pain ; my eyelids fell of their own accord, 
and I sank again into a restless sleep. 

It must have been afternoon when a light footstep aroused 
me. There was a plain, pleasant-faced woman in the room, 
who came forward to the bedside, at the movement I made. 

" Where 's Bob ? " I asked. 

" He went off early to his work, sir. But you 're to keep 
still and rest ; he '11 be back betimes, this evenin.' And I 
've a cup o' tea ready for you, and a bit o' toast." 

She brought them, placed them on a stand by the bed- 
side, and left the room. I was still weak and feverish, but 
the refreshment did me good, and my sleep, after that, was 
lighter and more healthful. It was a new, delicious sensa- 
tion, to feel that there was somebody in the world who 
cared for me. 

It was nearly dark when Bob came softly into the room. 
I stretched out my hand towards him, and the honest fellow 
was visibly embarrassed by the look of gratitude and love 
I fixed on his face. 

" You 're comin' round, finely ! " he cried, in a cheery 
voice. " I would n't ha' left you, at all, John, but for the 



442 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

work dependin' on me ; it 's that big buildin' down in Cort- 
]andt Street, right-hand side. But to-morrow 's Sunday, 
as good luck will have it, and so we can spend the whole 
day together." 

Bob brought me some more tea, and would have gone 
out for oysters, " patridges," and various other delicacies 
which he suggested, if I had allowed him. His presence, 
however, was what I most craved. After the morbid in- 
tellectual atmosphere I had breathed for the last few montlis, 
there was something as fresh and bracing as mountain 
breezes in the simj^le, rude commingling of purely moral 
and physical elements in his nature. The course of his 
life was set, from his very birth, and rolled straight forward, 
untroubled by painful self-questioning. If a temptation 
assailed him, he might possibly yield to it for a moment, 
but the next he would recover his balance. An influence 
of order flowed from him into me, and my views of life 
besan to arrange themselves in accordance with it. 

He was boarding, he informed me, with a married fellow- 
workman, whose wife it was that I had seen. He had been 
in New York since the previous autumn ; it was the best 
place for his trade and he intended remaining. The day 
before one of the journeymen had been married; there 
w^as a family party at the bride's home, in Jersey City ; he 
had been invited, and was on his way back when he met 
me in Crosby Street. 

" Did you think of me ? " I asked. " Had you a pre- 
sentiment that you would meet an old friend ? " 

" Not a bit of it. I was thinkin' of — well, no matter. 
I no more expected to come across you, John, than — than 
Adam. But I 'm real glad it turned out so." 



JOHN GODFREr'S FORTUNES. 443 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

IN WHICH I HEED GOOD ADVICE, MAKE A DISCOVEKT, 
AND RETURN TO MRS. VERY. 

The Sunday which followed was the happiest day I had 
known for many months. I awoke with a clear head and 
a strong sense of hunger in my stomach, and after making 
myself as j^resentable as my worn and dusty garments would 
allow, went down with Bob to breakfast with the workman 
and his wife. The good people received me civilly, and 
asked no embarrassing questions. Bob, I surmised, had 
explained to them my appearance in his own way. So, 
when the meal was over, he remarked, — 

" I guess I sha'n't go to church to-day. You won't w^ant 
to go out, John, and I '11 keep you company." 

I should gladly have accompanied him, humbled and 
penitent, to give thanks for the change in my fortunes, un- 
certain though it still was, but for the fear that my appear- 
ance, so little like that of a decent worshipper, would draw 
attention to me. For Bob's sake I stayed at home, and he 
for mine. 

The time was well-spent, nevertheless. Confession is a 
luxury, when one is assured beforehand of the sympathy 
of the priest, and his final absolution. In the little back 
bedroom, Bob sitting with his pipe at the open window, I 
told him my story, from the day I had last seen him on the 
scaffold in Honeybrook, to the meeting of two nights be- 
fore. I could not explain to him the bearing of my intel- 
lectual aims on the events of my life : he would not have 
understood it. But the episodes of my love touched our 



444 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

common nature and would sufficiently account, in his view, 
for my late recklessness. I therefore confined myself to 
those and to such other facts as I supposed he would easily 
grasp, since he must judge me, mainly, by external circum- 
stances. 

When I had finished, I turned towards him and said, — 
" And now, Bob, what do you think of me ? " 

" Jest what I always did. There 's nothin' you 've done 
that one of us hard-fisted fellows might n't do every day, 
and think no more about it, — onless it 's cuttin' stick with- 
out settlin' for your board, and borrowin' from a needy 
friend when you have n't the means o' payin' him. But you 
did n't know that when you borrowed, — I '11 take my oath 
on it. Yoiu' feehn's always was o' the fine, delicate kind, — 
mine 's sort o' coarse-grained alongside of 'em, — and it 
seems to me you 've worried yourself down lower than 
you 'd had any need to ha' gone. When a man thinks he 's 
done for, and it 's all day with him, he '11 step into the fire 
when he might just as easy step out of it. I s'pose, though, 
there 's more expected of a man, the more brains he has, 
and the higher he stands before the world. I might swear 
in moderation, for instance, and no great harm, while a 
minister would he damned if he was to say ' damned ' any- 
wheres but in his pulpit." 

" But you see. Bob, how I have degraded myself! " 

" Yes, I don't wonder you feel so. Puttin' myself in 
your place, I can understand it, and 't would n't be the 
right thing, s'posin' the case was mine. The fact is, John, 
we 've each one of us got to take our share of the hard 
knocks. There 's a sayin' among us that a man 's got to 
have a brickbat fall on his head once't in his life. Well 
— v/hen you know it 's the rule, you may as well grin and 
bear it, like any other man. I know it comes hard, once't 
in a while — Lord God, some things is hard ! " 

Bob pronounced these last words with an energy that 
startled me. His pipe snapped in his fingers, and falling 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 445 

on the floor, was broken into a dozen pieces. " Blast the 
pipe ! " he exclaimed, kicking them into a corner. Then 
he arose, filled a fresh j)ipe, lighted it, and quietly resumed 
his seat. 

" What Avould you do now," I asked, '" if you were in my 
place ? " 

"Forgit what can't be helped, and take a fresh start. 
Let them fellows alone you 've been with. That Bran- 
dagee must be as sharp as a razor ; I can see you 're no 
match for him. You seem to ha' been doin' well enough, 
until you let him lead you ; why not go back to the rest of 
it, leavin' him out o' the bargain ? That editor now, — Clar- 
endon, — I 'd go straight to him, and if I had to eat a 
mouthful or so o' humble pie, why, it 's of my own bakin' ! " 

I reflected a few minutes and found that Bob was right. 

Of all men whom I knew, and who were likely to aid me, 

I had the greatest respect for Mr. Clarendon, and could 

approach him with the least humiliation. I decided to make 

the attempt, and told Bob so. 

^ " That 's right," said he. " And I tell you what, — it 's 

^ the rule o' life that you don't git good-luck in one way 

without payin' for it in another. I 've found that out, to 

my cost. And the Bible is right, that the straight road and 

the narrow one is the best, though it 's hard to the feet. 

The narrower the road, the less a man staggers in it. You 

seem, oftentimes, to be doin' your duty for nothin', — worse 

than that, gettin' knocks for doin' it, — but it 's my belief 

that you '11 find out the meanin', if you w^ait long enough. 

, There 's that girl down in Upper Samaria, — you must ha' 

I been awfully cut up about her, and no wonder, but did n't 

it turn out best, after ail ? " 

Bob's simple philosophy was amply adequate to my 
needs. Without understanding my more complex experi- 
ence of life, he offered me a sufficient basis to stand upon. 
Perhaps the thought passed through my mind that it was 
easy for his coarse, unimpressionable nature to keep the 



) 



446 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

straight path, and to butt aside, with one sturdy blow, the 
open front of passions which aj^proached me by a thousand 
stealthy avenues. I doubted whether keen disappointment 
— positive suffering — empowered him to speak with equal 
authority ; but these surmises, even if true, could not 
weaken the actual truth of his words. His natural, un- 
conscious courage shamed out of sight the lofty energy 
upon which I had prided myself. 

I was surprised, also, at the practical instinct which en- 
abled him to comprehend circumstances so different from 
his own, and to judge of men from what I revealed of their 
connection with my history. It occurred to me that the 
faculty of imagination, unless in its extreme potency, is a 
hindrance rather than an aid to the study of human nature. 
I felt assured that Bob would have correctly read the 
characters of every one of my associates in one fourth of 
the time wliich I had required. 

It was arranged that I should make my call upon Mr. 
Clarendon the very next day. Bob offered me one of his 
shirts, and would have added his best coat, if there had 
been any possibility of adapting its large outline to my 
slender shoulders. He insisted that, whether or not my 
application were successful, I should share his room until 
I had made a little headway. I agreed, because I saw that 
a refusal would have pained him. 

I own that my sensations were not agreeable as I rang 
the bell at Mr. Clarendon's door. It was necessary to hold 
down my pride with a strong hand, — a species of self- 
control to which I had not latterly been accustomed. When 
I found myself, a few minutes afterward, face to face with 
the editor in his library, the quiet courtesy of his greeting 
reassured me. It was not s® difficult to make the plunge, 
as I did, in the words, somewhat bitterly uttered, — 

" Another edition of the prodigal son, Mr. Clarendon." 

He smiled with a frank humor, in which there was no 
trace of derision. " And you have come to me for the 
fatted calf, I suppose ? " he said. 



JOHJT GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 447 

" Oh, a very lean one will satisfy me. Or a chicken, if 
there is no calf on hand." 

" You must have been feeding on husks with a ven- 
geance, in that case, Mr. Godfrey. If I ask for your story, 
believe me it is not from intrusive curiosity." 

I was sure of that, and very willingly confessed to him 
all that it was necessary for him to know. In fact, he 
seemed to know it in advance, and his face expressed neither 
surprise nor condemnation. His eyes seemed rather to 
ask whether I was strong enough to keep aloof from those 
excitements, and I gratefully responded to the considerate, 
fatherly interest which prompted his questions. 

The result of our interview was that I was reinstated in 
my employment, — in a somewhat lower position than for- 
merly, it is true, and with a slightly diminished salary ; but 
it was more than I had any reason to expect. Mr. Claren- 
don made his kindness complete by offering me a loan for 
my immediate necessities, which I declined in a burst of 
self-denying resolution. I was sorry for it, upon reflecting, 
after I had left the house, that Swansford might be suffer- 
ing through my neglect, and my acceptance of the offer 
would have enabled me to relieve him. 

This reflection was so painful that I determined to draw 
upon Bob's generosity for the money, and, until his return, 
employed myself in commencing a magazine story, of a much 
more cheerful and healthy tone than my recent productions. 
Bob was later than usual, and his footstep, as he ascended 
the stairs, was so slow and heavy that I hardly recognized 
it. He came bending into the room with a weight on his 
shoulders, which proved to be — the trunk I had left be- 
hind me at Mrs. De Peyster's ! 

" I thought you might want it, John, so I jest come up 
by way o' Bleecker Street, and fetched it along," said he. 

" But how did she happen to let you take it ? Oh, I see. 
Bob, you have paid my debt ! " 

"Yes; it's better you'd owe it to me than to her. I 
know you '11 pay me back ag'in, and she don't." 



448 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Bob's view of the matter was so simple and natm^al that 
I did not embarrass him with my thanks. But I could not 
now ask for a further loan, and poor Swansford must wait 
a few days longer. 

While Bob was smoking his evening pipe, I told him of 
the fortunate result of my visit to Mr. Clarendon. 

" I knowed it," was his quiet comment. " Now we '11 
take a fresh start, John, — your head aginst my hands. 
One heat don't win, you know ; it 's the best two out o' 
three." 

" Then, Bob ! " I exclaimed, in a sudden effusion of pas- 
sion, — "I 've lost where I most wanted to win. What 
are head and hands together beside the heart ! Bob, did 
you ever love a woman ? " 

" I 'm a man," he answered, in a stern voice. After a 
few long whiffs, he drew his shirt-sleeve across his brow. 
l^ I am not sure but it touched his eyes. 

" John," he began again, " there 's somethin' queer about 
^1 V ' this matter o' love. I 've thought, sometimes, that the 
Devil is busy to keep the right men and women aj)art, and 
bring the wrong ones together. It goes with the rest of us 
as it's gone with you. When I told you that you must 
grin and bear, t 'other night, I was n't preachin' what I 
don't practise myself. There was a little girl I knowed, 
last summer, over in Jersey, that I 'd ha' given my right 
hand for. I thought, at one time, she liked me, but jest 
when my hopes was best, she went off between two 
days " 

" What ? ! " I exclaimed. 

" Took herself away, without sayin' good-bye to any- 
body. - Ha'n't been heard of from that day to this. Her 
aunt had a notion that she must ha' gone to New York, and 
I first come here, as much as for anything else, hopin' I 
might git on the track of her. I tell you, John, many 's 
the night I've walked the streets, lookin' into the girls' 
faces, in mortal fear o' seein' hers among 'em. It may n't 



JOH^ GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 449 

be so bad as that, you know, but a fellow can't help thinkin' 
the w^orst." 

I was thunderstruck by the singular fancy which forced 
itself into my mind. If it were true, should I mention it ? 
— should I relieve the torture of doubt only by the worse 
torture of reality? I looked at Bob's calm, sad, rugged 
face, and saw there the marks of a strength which I might 
trust ; but it was with a hesitating, trembling voice that I 
said, — 

" Did she live in Hackettstown, Bob ? " 

He started, turned on me a pair of intense, shining eyes, 
which flashed the answer to my question. The hungry in- 
quiry of his face forced the name from my lips, — 

"Jane Berry." X 

" Where is she, John ? What is she ? " 

The questions were uttered under his breath, yet they 
had the power of a cry. I saw the task I had brought upon 
myself, and braced my heart for a pain almost as hard to 
inflict as to endure. His eyes, fixed upon me, read the 
struggle, and interpreted its cause. He groaned, and laid 
his head upon the window-sill, but only for a moment. I 
could guess the pang that rent his w^arm, brave, faithful 
heart, and the tears he held back from his own eyes came 
into mine. 

Then, as rapidly as possible, — for I saw his eagerness 
and impatience, — I told him how and where I had first 
met Jane Berry, repeated to him her confession to me, and 
explained the mystery of her disappearance. I did not 
even conceal that passage where I had shamefully put off 
the character of helper and essayed that of tempter, be- 
cause there might be a sad consolation in this evidence that 
her virtue, though wrecked, had not gone down forever. 
Though lost to him, she was not wholly lost to herself 

AYhen I had finished, he drew a long breath and ex- 
claimed, in a low voice, " Thank God, I know all now ! 
Poor foolish girl, she 's paid dear enough for her folly. 



450 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

What ought to be done is past my knowledge, savin' this 
one thing, that she must be found, — must he, I say, and 
you '11 help me, John ? " 
^ " I will, Bob, — here 's my hand on it. We '11 go to 
Mary Maloney at once." 

In half an hour we were in Gooseberry Alley. It was 
little the Irishwoman could tell, but that little was encour- 
aginof. She had seen Jane Berry but once since her de- 
parture, and that, fortunately, within the past month. Jane 
had come to her house, '' quite brisk and chirrupin'," she said ; 
had inquired for me, and seemed very much disappointed 
that Mary was ignorant of my whereabouts ; said she had 
been successful in getting work, that she was doing very 
well, and would never forget how she had been helped ; but 
did not give her address, nor say when she would return. 
Mary confessed that she had not pressed her to repeat her 
visit soon ; " you know the raison, Mr. Godfrey," she re- 
marked. 

The next day, I went with Bob to the Bowery establish- 
ment where I had first procured work for the unfortunate 
girl ; but neither there, nor at other places of the kind, 
could we gain any information. Bob, however, at my re- 
quest, wrote to her aunt in New Jersey, stating that he had 
discovered that Jane was supporting herself by her trade, 
and that he hoped soon to find her. I judged this step 
might prepare the way for her return ; it was the only man- 
ner in which we could help her now. I did not despair of 
our finding her hiding-place, sooner or later. In fact, I ac- 
cepted the task as an imperative duty, for / had driven her 
away. Bob, also, was patient and hopeful ; he performed 
his daily labor steadily, and never uttered a word of com^ 
plaint. But he sighed wearily, and muttered in his sleep, 
so long as I shared his bed. 

Thanks to his forethought, I put on the feelings with the 
garments of respectability. My return to the Wonder of- 
fice was hailed with delight by the honest Lettsom, and 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. - 451 

even with mild pleasure by the melancholy Severn. My 
mechanical tasks even became agreeable by contrast with 
exhaustive straining after effect, or the production of those 
advertising verses, which I never wrote without a sense of 
degradation. I was familiar with the routine of my duties, 
and gave from the start — as I had resolved to give — sat- 
isfaction. Mr. Clarendon, it appeared, had only intended 
to test my sincerity in his new offer of terms ; for, at the 
close of the w^eek, I found myself established on the old 
footing. 

No sooner was the money in my pocket than I hastened 
to Mrs. Yery's, palpitating with impatience to make atone- 
ment to Swansford. The servant-girl who answered the 
door informed me, not only that he was in, but that he 
never went out now. He had been very sick ; the doctor 
would n't let him play on the piano, and it made him w^orse ; 
so now^ he was at it from morning till night. 

I heard the faint sounds of the instrument coming down 
from the attic, as soon as I had entered the door. The 
knowledge of him, sick, lonely, and probably in want of 
money, sent a sharp pain to my heart. As I mounted the 
last flight of steps, I distinguished his voice, apparently 
trying passages of a strange, sad melody, repeating them 
with slight variations, and accompanying them with sus- 
taining chords which struck my ear like the strokes of a 
muffled bell. 

He was so absorbed that he did not notice my entrance. 
When I called out his name, he turned his head and looked 
at me with a feeble, melancholy smile, without ceasing his 
performance. I laid the money on one end of the piano, 
and described my conduct in harsh terms, and begged his 
forgiveness ; but still he played on, smiling and nodding 
from time to time, as if to assure me that he heard and for- 
gave, while the absorbed, mysterious gleam deepened in his 
sunken eyes. I began to doubt whether he was aware of 
my presence, when the muffled bells tolling under his fin- 



452 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

gers seemed to recede into the distance, sinking into the 
mist of golden hills, farther and fainter, until they died in 
the silence of the falling sky. Then he turned to me and 
spoke, — 

" Godfrey, was n't it Keats who said, ' I feel the daisies 
already growing over me ' ? You heard those bells ; they 
were tolling for me, or, rather, for that in me which laments 
the closing of a useless life, a thwarted destiny. What is 
there left to me now but to write my own dirge ? And 
who is there to charge me with presumption if I flatter my 
dreary departure from life by assigning to myself the fame 
of which I dreamed ? Fame is but the echo of achieve- 
ment, and I have sung into the empty space which sends no 
echo back. Listen ! I celebrate myself^ I give the ' meed 
of one melodious tear ' to my own grave ! No artist ever 
passed away in such utter poverty as that, I think." 

He commenced again, and after an introduction, in the 
fitful breaks and dissonances of which I heard the brief ex- 
pression of his life, fell into a sad, simple melody. There 
were several stanzas, but I only remember the following : — 

" His golden harp is silent now, 
And dust is on his laurelled brow : 
His songs are hushed, his music fled, 
And amaranth crowns his starry head : 

Toll ! toll ! the minstrel 's dead ! " * 

Twice he sang the dirge, as if there were a mad, desper- 
ate enjoyment in the idea ; then, as the final chords flick- 
ered and trembled off* into the echoless space, his hands 
slipped from the keys, and, with a long sigh, his head 
dropped on his breast. I caught him in my arms, and my 

* In searching among my papers for some relic of poor Swansford, I came 
upon a crumpled leaf, upon one side of which is written, — 

" 3 shirts 18 

5 handkerchiefs 10 
3 pr. socks 9 

37 cts." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 453 

heart stood still with the fear that his excitement had made 
the song prophetic, and he was actually dead. I laid him 
on the bed, loosened his cpllar, and bathed his brow, and 
after a few minutes he opened his eyes. 

" Godfrey," he said, " it 's kind of you to come. You see 
there is n't much left of me. You and I expected some- 
thing else in the old days, but — any change carries a hope 
with it." 

Regret or reproach on my part availed nothing. What 
was still possible, I resolved to do. When Swansford had 
somewhat recovered his strength, I left him and sought 
Mrs. Very. That estimable and highly genteel woman 
shed tears as she recounted the particulars of his illness, 
and hailed as a godsend my proposal to return to my old 
quarters — now fortunately vacant — in her house. I then 
hastened to Stanton Street, packed my trunk, and awaited 
Bob's return. He had not a word to say against my plan, 
and, moreover, offered his own help if it should be neces- 
sary. 

Thus I found myself back again at the starting-point of 
three years before ; but, ah me ! — the sentmiental, eager, 
inexperienced youth of that period seemed to be no relation 
of mine. 

while in pencil, on the opposite side, is the stanza I have qtioted, with the 
exception of the refrain, — 



His gol - den harp is si - lent now, And 



m^mfi^mm^^i 




dust is on his lau - relied brow : His songs are hushed, his 

^ n t-j- 



lu - sic fled. And ama-ranth crowns his star - ry head! 



454 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER XXXYI. 

WHICH BRINGS THE SYMPHONY TO AN END, BUT LEAVES 
ME WITH A HOPE. 

Mr. Clarendon need not have feared that I might re- 
lapse into evil habits ; every hour I could spare from my 
duties was devoted to the service of my dying friend. Since 
I had neglected and thoughtlessly injured him, I now re- 
solved that no moment of his brief life should reproach me 
after its close. He was too feeble to deny me this satisfac- 
tion ; and I saw, with a mournful pleasure, that no other 
hand was so welcome as mine, no other voice could so 
quickly bring the light back into his fading eyes. Bob in- 
sisted on relieving me, now and then, of my nightly watches, 
and I was surprised, not only at the gentleness and tender- 
ness of his ministrations, but at Swansford's grateful ac- 
ceptance of them. It almost seemed as if the latter had 
sent his Art in advance, into the coming life, and was con- 
tent with human kindness and sympathy for the few days 
of this which remained. 

The seeds of his disease were no doubt born with him, 
and their roots had become so intertwined with those of his 
life that only a professional eye could distinguish between' 
the two. The impression left by my first visit was that he 
could not live twenty-four hours, but weeks had come and 
gone, and his condition fluctuated between the prospect 
of speedy death and the delusive hope of final recovery. 
There were times, even, when himself was deceived and 
would talk cheerily of the future. Neither of us knew how 
contradictory were these appearances, and that they should 
have prepared us for the opposite results. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 455 

One evening in the beginning of May, when Swansford's 
weakness and depression had reached a point whence it 
seemed impossible for him to rally, he beckoned me to his 
bedside. His voice was so faint that the words died away 
in whispers, but his face was troubled, and I saw from the 
expression of his eyes that he had a communication to make. 
I therefore administered a stimulating potion, and begged 
him to remain quiet until he felt its effects. Presently he 
was able to point to the upper drawer of his bureau, and 
ask me to bring him a package I should find in the right- 
hand corner. It was a heavy roll of paper, carefully tied 
and sealed. I laid it beside him on the bed, and he felt 
and fondled it with his white, wasted fingers. 

" Here it is, Godfrey," he whispered, at last. " My sym- 
phony ! I meant to have held it in my arms, in my coffin, 
and let it go to dust with the heart and the brain which 
created it ; but now it seems that my life is there, not here, 
in my body. I might be killing something, you see, that 
had a right to live. God knows : but there is another rea- 
son. It belongs to her, Godfrey. Every note is part of a 
history which she alone can understand. Let her read it. 
I honor her too much to speak or write to her while I live, 
but there is no infidelity in her listening to the voice of the 
dead. Keep it until you have buried me : then give it into 
her hands." 

" You have my sacred word, Swansford," I said ; " but 
you must tell me who she is — where I shall find her." 
" It is written there, I think. But you know her." 
I feared his mind was wandering. Taking the package 
I held it to the light, and, after some search, discovered, 
feebly written in pencil, the words : " Mrs. Fanny Deering, 
from C. S." Of all the surprises of my life, this seemed the 
greatest. 

" Swansford ! " I cried, — " is it really she ? " 

" Yes, Godfrey ; don't ask me anything more ! " 

He closed his eyes, as if to enforce silence. After a 



456 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

while he seemed to sleep, and I leaned back in the rock- 
ing-chair which Mrs. Very had kindly provided for the 
watchers, busying my brain with speculations. I felt, more 
deeply than ever, the tragic close of Swansford's disap- 
pointed existence. She whom he had loved — whom he 
still loved with the despairing strength of a broken heart 
— who, I was sure, might silence, but could not forget the 
early memories which linked her to him — was here, within 
an hour's call of the garret where he lay dying. He was 
already within the sanctifying shadow of the grave, and»the 
word, the look of tender recognition which she might anti- 
cipate beyond, could, in all honor and purity, be granted to 
him now. I would go to her — would beg her to see him 
once more — to give one permitted consecration of joy to 
his sad remnant of life. I knew that he did not dream of 
such an interview, — probably did not desire it, — and 
therefore it was best to keep my design secret. 

In the morning Swansford had rallied a little, but it was 
evident that his life barely hung by a thread. I trembled 
with anxiety during the day, as I performed those mechan- 
ical tasks which were now more than ever necessary, for 
his sake, and hastened rapidly back at evening, to find him 
still alive, and in Bob's faithful charge. Then I set out, 
at once, for Mr. Deering's residence, in Fourteenth Street. 

As I approached the house, my stejD slackened and I fell 
to meditating, not only on my errand, which I felt to be a 
matter of some delicacy, but on Mrs. Deering's apparent 
intimacy with Isabel Haworth. It will be remembered 
that I had not seen the former since the night of my mys- 
terious repulse. I should no doubt have gone to her, as 
soon as Custom permitted, but for my ruinous and reckless 
course of life : she might possess the key to the treatment 
I had received, or, if not, could procure it. There was the 
hope of final knowledge in the present renewal of my ac- 
quaintance, and thus my own happiness suggested it, no 
less than my friend's. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 457 

I was but a few paces from the house when the door 
opened and a gentleman came out. I recognized Penrose 
at the first glance, and I saw that he also recognized me, 
before he reached the bottom of the steps. His appear- 
ance in the house of Isabel Haworth's friend started a thou- 
sand fierce suspicions in my breast. He had won, — he 
was the fortunate suitor — possibly the calumniator to whom 
I owed my disgrace ! I stopped and would have turned, 
but he was already upon me. 

" Cousin John," he said, and there was a tone in his voice 
which forced me to stand still and listen, though I could 
not take his offered hand, " where have you been ? I tried 
to find you, at the old place, but your landlady almost turned 
me out of doors for asking. I thought you had anticipated 
me in clearing the field. Come, don't glower at me in that 
way, man ! we can shake hands again." 

He took mine by force. 

" What do you mean ? " I asked. 

" That we are both floored. Floyd told me you had re- 
ceived your walking-papers long ago, and so I pushed on 
— to get mine. You were right, John ; I did leave her out 
of the account, in my calculations. But I never saw all 
that I had lost until the moment of losing it. There, that 's 
enough ; we need n't mention her any more. I '11 write to 
Matilda to-morrow to find a brace of elegantly finished 
machines, with the hinges of their tongues, knees, and 
ankles well oiled, — warranted to talk, dance, sit in a car- 
riage, lounge at the opera, and do all other things which 
patent ladies may of right do. You shall have one, and 
I'll take the other." 

He laughed — a low, bitter laugh of disappointment. 

" Alexander," I said, " I did not know of this before. I 
held back my hand because I feared that you were my 
fortunate rival. Now I give it to you, with my heart, if 
you will take it after I have said one more word. I have 
not ceased, and will not cease to love Isabel Haworth. 



458 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Something has come between us which I cannot yet under- 
stand, but, with God's help, I will remove it, and it may be 

— I scarcely hope, Alexander, but it 7nay be — that her 
heart shall answer to mine. Now, will you take my 
hand ? " 

He looked at me, a moment, in silence. Then I felt my 
hand locked in a firm grasp, which drew me nearer, until 
our faces almost touched. His eyes read mine, and his lip 
trembled as he spoke, — 

" God bless you, John ! I was right to fear you, but it is 
too late to fear you now, and needless to hate you. I can't 
wish you success, — that would be more than human. But 
since she is lost to me there is less pain in the knowledge 
that you should win her than another. If it comes I shall 
not see it. I am going away, and it will be some comfort 
to think of you still as my friend." 

" Going away ? " I repeated ; " you will leave New York 

— give up your business ? " 

" No ; my excuse is also my necessity. Dunn and Deer- 
ing have had an agency in San Francisco for two years 
past, and it is now to be made a branch, under my charge. 
The matter was talked of before, and I should probably 
have been there already, but for — well, for her. We 
understand each other now, and nothing more need be 
said. Try to think kindly of me, John, though you may 
not like the selfish and arbitrary streak I have inherited 
from my father ; let the natures of our mothers, only, 
speak to each other in us ! " 

I had kept his hand in mine while he spoke. Little by 
little I was growing to understand his powerful, manly 
nature, mixed of such conflicting elements, and, in that 
comprehension, to feel how powerless were his coveted 
advantages of beauty, enei'gy, and fortune, in the struggle 
for happiness. Again I turned to my own past history 
with shame. The three men nearest to me — Penrose, 
Swansford, and Bob Simmons — were equally unfortunate, 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 459 

yet each courageously met his destiny, while I alone had 
acted the part of a coward and a fool. I saw how shallow 
had been my judgment, how unjust my suspicions, and the 
old, boyish affection for my cousin came back to my heart. 

" Alexander," I said, " I will remember you as a brother. 
If I ever thought unkindly of you, it was because I did 
not know you truly. God bless and keep you ! " 

He was gone, and I stood at the door. Our meeting 
had given me strength and courage, and I sought at once 
an interview with Mrs. Deering. 

She entered the room with a colder and statelier air 
than I had before noticed in her. I felt, however, only the 
solemn importance of my errand, and the necessity of com- 
municating it without delay. I therefore disregarded her 
somewhat formal gesture, inviting me to, be seated, stepped 
nearer to her, and said, — 

" Mrs. Deering, you will pardon me if I commit an indis- 
cretion in what I have to say. It concerns a very dear 
friend of mine who was once a friend of yours, — Charles 
Swansford ! " 

She started slightly, and seemed about to speak, but I 
went on. • 

" He is lying on his death-bed, Mrs. Deering. He may 
have but a day — nay, perhaps only an hour — to live. He 
placed in my charge a musical work of his own composi- 
tion, to be delivered to you after his death ; but I have 
come now, unknown to him, to tell you that I believe no 
greater blessing could be granted to his last moments than 
the sight of your face and the sound of your voice. I need 
not say anything more than this. If your heart inclines 
you to fulfil my wish, — mine, remember, not his, — I am 
ready to conduct you. If not, he will never know that I 
have spoken it." 

Her cold dignity was gone; pale and trembling, she 
leaned upon the back of a chair. Her voice was faint 
and broken. " You know what he is — was — to me ? " 
she said. 



460 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" I knew it last night for the first time, and then only 
because he thought he was dying. I come to you at the 
command of my own conscience, and the rest must be left 
to yours." 

" I will go ! " she exclaimed ; " it cannot be wrong now. 
God, who sees my soul, knows that I mean no wrong ! " 

" No, Mrs. Deering ; since you have so decided, let me 
say to you that my j^oor friend's life of suffering and 
despair would have been ignobly borne for your sake, had 
you refused this last, pious act of consolation." 

She grasped my hand in hers, crying, through her start- 
ing tears, — " Thank you, ]\Ir. Godfrey ! You have acted 
as a true friend to him and me. Let us go at once ! " 

Her carriage was ordered, and in a quarter of an hour 
we were on the way to Hester Street. She leaned back in 
the corner, silent, with clasped hands, during the ride, and 
when we reached the door was so overcome by her agita- 
tion that I was almost obliged to lift her from the carriage. 
I conducted her first to my own room, and then entered 
Swansford's, to prepare hun for the interview. 

He had been sleeping, and awoke refreshed ; his voice 
was weak, but clear, and his depressed, unhappy mood 
seemed to be passing away. I sat down beside him on the 
bed, and took his hand in mine. 

" Swansford," I said, " if you could have one wish ful- 
filled now, what would it be ? If, of all persons you have 
ever known, one might come to visit you, whom vt^ould you 
name ? " 

A bright, wistful gleam flitted over his face a moment 
and then died out. " No one," he sighed. 

"But there is some one, Swansford, — one who waits 
your permission to come to you. Will you admit her ? " 

"^er?" 

His voice was like a cry, and such a wild, eager, wonder- 
ing expression flashed into his features that I beckoned to 
Bob and we stole out of the room. Then I opened the 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 461 

door for Mrs. Deering, and closed it softly behind her, 
leaving them alone. 

Do you ask what sacred phrases of tenderness, what con- 
fession of feelings long withheld, what reciprocal repent- 
ance and forgiveness, were crowded into that interview ? 
I would not reveal them if I knew. There are some 
experiences of human hearts, in which God claims the 
exclusive right of possession, and I will not profanely ven- 
ture into their sanctities. 

Bob and I sat together in my room, talking in low tones, 
until more than an hour had passed. Then we heard the 
door of Swansford's room move, and I stepped forward to 
support Mrs. Deering's tottering steps. I placed her in 
a chair, and hastened to ascertain Swansford's condition 
before accompanying her to her home. His wasted face 
reposed upon the pillow in utter, bUssful exhaustion ; his 
eyes were closed, but tears had stolen from under the lids 
and sparkled on his white cheeks. 

" Swansford," I said, kneeling beside him, " do you for- 
give me for what I have done ? " 

He smiled with ineffable sweetness, gently drew my head 
nearer, and kissed me. 

When I left Mrs. Deering at her door, she said to me, — 
" I must ask your forgiveness, Mr. Godfrey : I fear I have 
done you injustice in my thoughts. If it is so, and the 
fancies I have had are not idle, I will try to save you 
from " — 

She paused. Her words were incomprehensible, but 
when I would have begged an explanation, she read the 
question in my face before it was uttered, and hastily ex- 
claimed, as she gave me her hand, — " No, no ; not to-night. 
Leave me now, if you please ; but I shall expect to see 
you every day while — he lives." 

As I walked homewards, pondering on the event of the 
evening, it was easy to perceive a connection between the 
formal air with which Mrs. Deerinor had received me and 



462 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

her parting words. I surmised that she had heard some- 
thing to my disadvantage, either from Miss Haworth, or 
from the same source as the latter, and thus the clue I 
sought seemed about to be placed in my hand. I should 
no longer be the victim of a mysterious, intangible hostility, 
but, knowing its form, could arm myself to overcome it. 
Hope stole back into my heart, and set the suppressed 
pulses of love to beating. 

From the close of that interview Swansford's condition 
seemed to be entirely changed. The last drop of bitterness 
was washed out of his nature ; he was calm, resigned, and 
happy. He allowed me to send a message to his mother 
and sisters, which he had previously refused, and lingered 
long enough to see them at his bedside. He had insisted 
on being laid in an unmarked grave, among the city's poor, 
but now he consented that his body should be taken to his 
Connecticut home and placed beside its kindred. The 
last few days of his life were wholly j^eaceful and serene. 
( " He 's an angel a'ready, " Bob said, and so we all felt. 
The decay of his strength became so regular towards the 
close that the physician was able to predict the hour when 
it would cease. We, who knew it, were gathered together, 
around the unconscious sufferer, who had asked to be raised 
and supported* in almost a sitting posture. His eyes wan- 
dered from one face to another, with a look too far removed 
from earth to express degrees of affection. All at once 
his lips moved, and he began to sing : — 

" His songs are hushed, his music fled, 
And amaranth cro^yns " 

There his voice stopped, and his heart stopped with it. 

I went to Connecticut with his family, and saw the last 
rites performed in the green little church-yard among the 
hills. Then I left his cheated hopes, his thwarted ambition, 
his shattered life to moulder there, believing that Divine 
Mercy had prepared a compensation for him in the eternal 
spheres. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 463 

Mrs. Deering's explanation, delayed by my constant at- 
tendance during the last days, and the solemn duties which 
followed, came at last ; but it was not so satisfactory as I 
had hoped. All that I could clearly ascertain was that 
Miss Haworth had heard something — knew, indeed, the 
latter had declared to Mrs. Deering — ^to my prejudice, 
and had prohibited all mention of my name. Mrs. Deer- 
ing naturally trusted to her friend's judgment, and my 
absence from a house where I had been so cordially re- 
ceived, confirmed her in the belief that her own vague 
suspicions must have a basis in reality. It was not neces- 
sary, she said, to mention them ; she had heard nothing, 
knew nothing, except that Miss Haworth considered me 
unworthy of her acquaintance. She was now convinced 
that there was a mistake somewhere, and it should be her 
duty to assist in clearing up the mystery. 

Mrs. Deering also informed me of another circumstance 
which had occurred some weeks before. Miss Haworth had 
left her step-father's house very suddenly, and gone alone 
to Boston, where she had relatives. It was rumored — 
but on what grounds nobody knew — that when she re- 
turned, it would not be to Gramercy Park. There must 
have been some disturbance, for she, Mrs. Deering, her 
most Intimate friend, would otherwise have heard from her. 
She was on the point of writing, to inquire into the truth 
of the rumor, when my visit, and the excitement and pre- 
occupation of her mind with Swansford's fate, had driven 
the subject from her thoughts. Now, however, she would 
lose no time. If the story were true, she would offer Miss 
Haworth a temporary home in her own house. 

During these conversations, it was natural that my ex- 
treme anxiety to ascertain the nature of my presumed 
offence, and to be replaced, if possible, in Miss Haworth's 
good opinion, should betray its true cause. I knew that 
Mrs. Deering read my heart correctly, and added her hopes 
to mine, although the subject was not openly mentioned 



464 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

between us. She was never weary of recounting the noble 
womanly virtues of her friend, nor was I ever weary of 
listeninor. The two women had been educated in the same 

o 

school, and were familiar with the circiunstances of each 
other's lives. I thus made good progress in the knowledge 
of my beloved, even though she was absent and estranged. 
While Mrs. Deering was waiting for an answer from 
Boston, Penrose sailed for California. The evening before 
his departure we spent together. Upon one subject there 
was a tacit understanding of silence, but on all others we 
were free and candid as brothers. With him went a portion 
of my life which I resolved must be renewed in the future, 
but when or how was as indefinite as the further course of 
my own fortunes. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 465 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

WHICH BRINGS MY FORTUNE AT LAST. 

Through all the period of agitation which I have just 
described I adhered faithfully to my work, and in spite of 
the demands upon my purse for poor Swansford's necessi- 
sities (and they were gladly answered), I slowly recovered 
my lost position of independence. Bob's generous loan 
was returned, I was free of other debt, and possessed once 
more an assured and sufficient income. Those months of 
vagabondage seemed like a dark, uneasy dream, in the 
steady light of resolution which now filled my life ; it was 
as if a sultry haze in which the forms of Good and Evil 
were blended, and the paths of order and of license be- 
come an inextricable labyrinth, had been blown away, leav- 
ing the landscape clearer than ever before. I will not say 
that all temptations died, or no longer possessed a formi- 
dable power ; but I was able to recognize them under what- 
ever mask they approached, and patient to wait for the day 
when each conditional sin of the senses should resolve it- 
self into a permitted bounty. 

On one subject alone I was not patient, and my disap- 
pointment was extreme when Mrs. Deering informed me 
that she had received a letter from Boston stating only 
that the rumor was true, — ]\Iiss Haworth would not return 
to her step-father's house in Gramercy Park. She would 
accept her friend's invitation when she came back to New 
York, — probably in a fortnight, or thereabouts. There 
was a hint, it was true, of further confidences, when they 
should meet. I begged Mrs. Deering to write again, and 
30 



466 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

ask, at least, an explanation of the mystery in which I was 
concerned. It was her right, I insisted, since she now per- 
mitted me to call myself her friend. 

Four days afterwards, on retm'ning to my lodgings late 
at night, after the completion of my editorial labors, I found 
a small note upon my table. It was addressed in a woman's 
-hand, which struck my eye as familiar, although it was not 
Mrs. Deering's, and I had long since ceased to receive 
notes from any other lady, — even from Adeliza Choate. I 
, opened it carelessly and read : — 
' '> \ "I have judged you unjustly, and treated you rudely, 
: iMr. Godfrey. If I have not forfeited the right to make 
'\" reparation, or you have not lost the desire to receive it, 
^^/ will you call upon me to-morrow evening, at Mrs. Deer- 
ing's, and oblige 

Isabel Ha worth." 

I am not certain what I did during the next ten minutes 
after reading this note ; but I have a dim recollection of 
sinking on my knees at the bedside, and bowing my head 
on the coverlet, as my mother had taught me to do when a 
little boy. The work for which I had been trying to arm' 
myself was already done. It mattered not now who was 
the enemy, nor what the weapon he had used against me ; 
she confessed her injustice, — confessed it fully, directly, 
and honorably, as became her nature. The only prayer to 
which I could bend my mind, before yielding to sleep that 
night, was, " God, give me Isabel Haworth ! " . - -' '"' 

The next morning I wrote the single line, — 

" I will come. 

John Godfrey," — 

and carried it to Fourteenth Street myself, unwilling to 
trust the fate of the message to other hands. That day 
• was the longest of my life. It was hard to force my mind 
into its habitual harness, and go over the details of a new 
sugar-refinery which was to be described for the morrow's 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 467 

paper, when my imagination was busy with the rippled hair 
and the soft violet eyes I had so long missed. 

Let me overlook the memory of that gnawing impatience 
and hasten forward to the evening. -At the earliest mo- 
ment permitted by the habits of society, I presented myself 
at Mrs. Deering's door, and sent my name to Miss Haworth. 
I had not long to wait ; she came into the room taller, it 
seemed to me, and more imposing in her presence, — but 
it was only the queenly air of right and justice which en- 
^veloped her. The sweet, frank face was pale, but firm, 
I and the eyes did not droop or waver an instant, as they met 
I my gaze. I forgot everything but the joy of seeing her 
I again, of being restored to her society, and went forward 
^^to meet her, as if nothing had occurred since our last 
parting. 

But she stopped and held me, by some subtle influence, 
from giving her the hand I was about to extend. " Wait, 
if you please, Mr. Godfrey," she said. " Before I can allow 
you to meet me as a friend, — even if you are generous 
enough to forgive, unexplained, the indignity with which I 
have treated you, — you must hear how far I have suffered 
myself to be misled by representations and appearances to 
do cruel wrong to your character as a man." 

She stood so firm and resolute before me, bending her 
womanly pride to the confession of injustice with a will so 
noble that my heart bowed down at her feet and did her 
homage. It was enough ; I would spare her the rest of her 
voluntary reparation. 

" Miss Haworth," I said, " let it end here. You have al- 
ready admitted that you judged me wrongly, and I ask no 
more. I do not seek to know what were your reasons for 
denying me the privilege of your — acquaintance; it is 
enough to know that they are now removed." 

" It is not enough I " she exclaimed. " I claim to be ac- 
countable for every act of my life. You have a right to 
demand an explanation ; you would demand it from a gen- 



468 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

tleman, and I am not willing to shelter myself under that 
considerate sentiment towards our sex which would spare 
me a momentary humiliation, by depriving me of the op- 
portunity of satisfying my sense of justice. Be candid, Mr. 
Godfrey, and confess that the unexplained wrong would 
rest uneasily in your memory." 

Her sense of truth struck deeper than my instinct of the 
moment. I felt that she was right ; it was better that 
everything should be told now, and the Past made clear, 
for the sake of the Future. 

" It is true," I said. " I am ready to hear all that you 
consider necessary to be told." 

She paused a moment, but not from hesitation. She 
was only considering how to begin. When she spoke, her 
voice was calm and steady, and I felt that the purpose 
which prompted her was but the natural suggestion of her 
heart. 

" I believe that one's instincts are generally true, and 
therefore I presume you already suspect that my step- 
brother, Mr. Tracy Floyd, is no friend of yours ? " 

I bowed in assent. 

"Althouo-h I had no reason to attach much weidit to 
Mr. Floyd's opinions, I will admit that other circumstances 
had shaken my faith, for a time, in the sincerity and hon- 
esty of men ; that I was — perhaps morbidly — suspicious, 
and hence his insinuations in regard to yourself, though not 
believed, disposed me to accept other causes for belief They 
assumed to be based on certain circumstances which he 
had discovered, and, therefore, when another circumstance, 
seeming to confirm them most positively, came under my 
own observation, I did believe. It was a shallow, hasty, 
false judgment, — how false, I only discovered a few weeks 
ago. I am ashamed of myself, for the truth bids me honor 
you for the very act which I interpreted to your shame." 

Her words were brave and noble, but I did not yet under- 
stand their application. I felt my cheeks glow and my 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 469 

heart throb with happiness at hearing my own praise from 
her lijDS. She paused again, but I would not interrupt her 
confession. 

"You may remember," she continued, "having called 
upon me, shortly after my return from the Northwest. 
Mr. Penrose was there at the same time, and you left the 
house together. My step-brother came into the room as 
you were taking leave. He was already in the habit of 
making depreciative remarks when your name happened 
to be mentioned; but on that evening he seemed par- 
ticularly exasperated at your visit. It is not necessary for 
me to repeat all that he said, — the substance of it was 
that your habits of life rendered you unfit for the society 
of ladies, — that he, being, by the relation between our 
parents, permitted to look upon himself as my protector, 
warned me that any appearance of friendship towards you, 
on my part, would occasion me embarrassment, if not in- 
jury. I could not reconcile his assertion with the impres- 
sion of your character which I had derived from my pre- 
vious acquaintance with you; but, as I said before, Mr. 
Godfrey, I had had unpleasant experiences of human self- 
ishness and hypocrisy, — my situation, indeed, seemed to 
expose me to such experiences, — and I became doubtful 
of my own judgment. Then came a singular chance, — in 
which, without my will, I played the spy upon your actions, 
and saw, as I supposed, the truth of all Mr. Floyd had 
declared." 

My eyes were fixed upon her face, following her words 
with breathless interest. Not yet could I imagine the act 
or acts to which she referred. I saw, however, that the 
coming avowal required an effort of courage, and felt, 
dimly, that the honor and purity of her woman's nature 
were called upon to meet it. 

" You have saved a woman," she said, " and it should not 
be hard for me to render simple justice to a man. I passed 
Washington Square one evening, Mr. Godfrey, when you 



470 JOHN" GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

were there to hear the story of an unfortunate girl. I saw 
you endeavoring to help and console her, — supporting her 
with your arm, — but I could hear neither your words nor 
hers. I trusted only to the evidence of my eyes, and they 
confirmed all that I had heard against you." 

" What ! " I exclaimed, " how was it possible ? " 

" I was in my carriage, bound on an errand which took 
me to the corner opposite the lamp under which you stood. 
As the coachman pulled up his horses, you moved away 
under the trees, as if fearful of being observed. The 
duplicity of your nature (as I took it to be) seemed to me 
all the darker and more repulsive from your apparent frank- 
ness and honesty ; I was tired of similar discoveries, and 
I resolved, from that moment that I would know you no 
longer. It is my habit to act upon impulse, and I seized 
the first opportunity which occurred, — with what injustice, 
what rudeness I did not suspect until I learned the truth. 
I have tried to be as swift to atone as I was to injure, but 
you were not to be found ; I knew not where a w^ord from 
me might reach you until I received Mrs. Deering's last 
letter." 

" Miss Haworth ! " I cried, " say no more ! you have 
acted nobly, — generously. I never accused you in my 
heart, — never." The next word would have betrayed my 
passion. I held it back from my lips with a mighty effort, 
but took her hand, bent my head over it and kissed it. 
When I looked up her eyes drooped, and the clear lines 
of her face were overspread with a wonderful softness and 
sweetness. 

" Tell me only," I said, " how you learned anything more ; 
who gave you an account of my interview with " — 

I paused involuntarily. Her eyes were lifted steadily to 
mine, and she completed the unfinished sentence, — 

" Jane Berry. From whom could I learn her story but 
from herself? She has told me all. It was she w^ho went 
in my behalf to search for you." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 473 

It was my turn to drop my eyes. Had Jane Berry in- 
deed told her all ? No, it could not be ; for in that case 
Miss Haworth might not have been so anxious to make 
reparation. She now overvalued as much as she had 
before undervalued my nature. What I seemed, in her 
pure, just eyes, I guessed with pain, as I remembered what 
I had been. But the mystery was not yet entirely clear ; 
I thrust back the memory of my shame, and questioned her 
again, — 

" How did you meet Jane Berry ? " 

To my surprise. Miss Haworth seemed embarrassed what 
answer to give. She was silent a moment, and a light, 
rosy flush came into her face. Then she said, — 

" Is it not enough, Mr. Godfrey, that I have met her ? — 
that I am trying to help her, as my duty bids me ? " 

In what followed, I obeyed an irresistible impulse. 
Whence it came, I cannot tell ; I was hurried along by 
a leap of the heart, so rapid that there was no time left 
to ask whither it was precipitating me. But the love 
nourished so long and sweetly, assailed by rivalry, sud- 
denly hurled back, half held in check by the efforts of 
an immature will, and outraged by evil courses, now reas- 
serted its mastery over me, filled and penetrated my being 
with its light and warmth, shone from my eyes, and trem- 
bled on my tongue. I was powerless to stay its expression. 
All thought of the disparity of our condition, of the con- 
trast between her womanly purity and nobility and my un- 
worthiness as a man, vanished from my mind. I only felt 
that we stood face to face, heart before heart, and from the 
overbrimming fulness of mine, I cried, — 

" I know what you think, Miss Haworth, — how kindly 
you judge me. I know, still better, how little claim I have 
to be honored in your thoughts, and yet I dare, — how shall 
I say it ? — dare to place myself where only your equal in 
truth and in goodness ought to stand ! I should give you 
time to know me better before telling you, as I must, that 



472 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

I love you, — love you ! Not first now, but long before 
I seemed to have lost you, and ever since, in spite of its 
hopelessness. I cannot thank you without betraying what 
is in my heart. I did not think to say this to-night ; I came, 
too happy in the knowledge that you called me back, to 
dream of asking more, but your presence brings to my 
! lips the words that may banish me forever. I ask nothing ; 
love cannot be begged. I have no reason to hope ; yet, 
Isabel Haworth, I love you, and believe that you will par- 
don if you cannot bless ! " 

A silence followed my words. I stood with bent head, 
as if awaiting a blow, while the gas-light fluttered and hum- 
med in the chandelier above us. Presently a soft voice — 
my heart stood still, listening to its perfect music — stole 
upon the hush of the room. 

" I knew it already." 

" Then," — but I did not finish the sentence. Our eyes 
met, and tremulous stars of twilight glimmered through the .;/ 
violet of hers. Our hands met, and of themselves drew us ^,' 
together ; drunken and blinded with happiness, I felt the ^ 
sweetness of her lips yield itself, unshrinkingly, to mine. ^'\' 
Then my arms folded themselves about her waist, her hands *^ 
clasped my neck, my cheek caressed the silken, rippled ^^ 
gold of her temples, and I sighed, from the depth of a 
grateful soul, — " Oh, thank God ! thank God ! " 

She felt the touch of the tear that sparkled on her hair. 
Once more I pressed my lips to her pure brow, and whis- 
pered, — " Tell me, is it true, Isabel ? " 

She lifted her head and smiled, as we tried to see each . 
other's hearts in the dim mirror of cither's eyes. 

" I knew it," she repeated, " but I also knew something 
more. Oh, it is blessed to find rest at last ! " 

Then she slipped from my arms, and sank ^ into a chair, 
covering her face with her hands. I knelt down beside 
her, caressing her lovely head. " I thought I had lost you," ) 
she murmured ; " I did not venture to hope that you would 
forgive me so easily." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 473 

" Darling ! " I exclaimed, taking her hand in mine, — "I 
never accused you. I knew that something had crept be- 
tween us, which I could not remove until I should discover 
its nature. Until to-night I have been ignorant of your 
reason for my dismissal. Had I suspected, — had you 
given me a chance " — 

" Ah," she interrupted me, " you will understand my 
abruptness now ! It was because I loved you, then, John, 
that I felt outraged and humiliated — that I resolved never 
to see you again. You, of all the young men I knew, seemed 
to me earnest and sincere ; I trusted in you, from the start, 
and just as I began to hope — as you hoped, John — came 
this blow to both of us. It could not have cost you more 
to bear than it cost me to inflict. Are you sure you have 
pardoned me ? " 

" Isabel ! " was all the reply I could make, except that 
wonderful speech of the silent, meeting lips. 

My bliss was too pure, too perfect to be long enjoyed 
without disturbance. Her maidenly courage, her frank 
and fearless confession of reciprocal love, filled me with a 
double trust and tenderness ; but it also recalled, ere long, 
the shrinking, evasive silence of the false-hearted Amanda. 
That pitiful episode of my life must be confessed — nor 
that alone. I would not wrong the noble confidence of my 
darling by allowing her to think me better than I was, — 
or, rather, had been ; for now the highest virtue, the stern- 
est self-denial, seemed little to pay in return for my bless- 
ing. Ah, had I found it but to lose it again ? This under- 
current of thought drove nearer and nearer the surface, 
clouding the golden ether I breathed, infusing its bitter 
drop into the nectar of my joy. 

" Isabel," I said, " I dare not win the fortune of my life 
so easily. I have been weak and sinful ; you must first 
hear my story, and then decide whether it is fitting that I 
should stand beside you. I owe it to you to complete your 
knowledge of myself." 



474 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" I expected nothing less from you, John," she said. " It 
is just : nothing in either's experience should be obscure to 
the other. You give me the Present, you promise me the 
Future, and I therefore have a right to the Past." 

She spoke so firmly and cheerfully that my heart was 
reassured. I would postpone the confession until our next 
meeting, and indulge myself, for this one sacred evening, 
in the perfect sweetness of my bliss. But another reflec- 
tion perversely arose to trouble me, — how should my pov- 
erty consort with her wealth ? How should I convince — 
not her, but the unbelieving world — of the pure, unselfish 
quality of my affection ? Neither would I speak of this ; 
but she saw the shadow of the thought pass over my face, 
and archly asked, — 

" What else ? " 

" I will tell you," I said. '• Your place in the world is 
above mine. I cannot make a ladder of my love, and 
mount to the ease and security which it is a man's duty to 
create for himself Whatever your fortune may be, you 
must allow me to achieve mine. The difference between 
us is an accident which my heart does not recognize, — 
would to God there were only this difference ! — but I dare 
not take advantage of the equality of love, to escape a 
necessity, which it is best, for your sake as well as my own, 
that I should still accept. You understand me, Isabel ? " 

" Perfectly," she answered, smiling. " Not for the world's 
sake, but for your own, I agree to your proposal. An idle 
life would not make you happy, and I ought to be glad, on 
my part, that my little fortune has not kept us apart. So 
far, it has rather been my misfortune. It has drawn to me 
the false love, and now it shall not be allowed to rob me 
of the true. Do not let this thing come between our hearts. 
If it were yours, you would share it with me and I should 
freely enjoy what it brings ; but a man is proud where a 
woman would be humble, and your pri(le is a part of your- 
self, and I love you as you are ! " (^'' ' v 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 475 

" God grant that I may deserve you ! " was all I could 
say. A softer and holier spirit of tenderness descended 
upon my heart. Now, indeed, might my mother rejoice 
over me, in her place amid the repose of heaven. 

Presently there was a gentle knock at the door, and a 
familiar voice said, — " May I come in ? " 

It was Mrs. Deering, whose face brightened as she looked 
from one to the other. She said nothings, but took Isabel 
in her arms and kissed her tenderly. Then she gave me 
her hand, and I felt sympathy and congratulation in its 
touch. 

" It is cruel in me to interrupt you," she said, when we 
were all seated, — " but do you know how long I have left 
you alone ? An hour and three quarters, by my watch, and 
I was sure, Isabel, that you had long ago finished making 
your amende. Mr. Godfrey, I believe this girl is capable 
of accepting a challenge. I should think her a man, in her 
courage and sense of right, if she had not proved herself 
such a dear, good, faithful wom.an-friend to me. Then, I 
was afraid, Mr. Godfrey, that you might slip away before I 
could tell you that I know the cause of Isabel's misunder- 
standing, and thank you, as a woman, for what you did. 
And we have been to see Mary Maloney this afternoon, and 
have heard your praises without end." 

" But Jane Berry ! " I exclaimed, to cover my confusion ; 
" where is she ? I must see her again." 

" I have found a quiet place for her, in Harlem," Isabel 
replied. " But, before you see her, you must know how I 
became acquainted with her and her story. Only, not to- 
night, John, pray ; to-morrow, — you will come again to- 
morrow ? " 

" To-morrow, and every day, imtil the day when I shall 
cease to come, because I shall cease to go." 

Mrs. Deering laughed and clapped her hands gleefully. 
" I see how it is ! " she cried ; " I shall lose the use of my 
parlor, from this time forth ; but the interviews must be 



476 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

limited to two hours. At the end of that time I shall make 
my appearance, watch in hand. Now, good-night, Mr. 
Godfrey, — good-night, and God bless you ! " 

A quick, warm pressure of the hand, and she stole out 
of the room. 

" She has told me all," said Isabel, turning to me, " and 
we have played the symphony, and wept over it together. 
It is a little wild and incoherent, but there is the beat of a 
breaking heart in it from beginning to end. You w^ere a 
true friend to him, John ; how I have wronged you ! ""^ 

"I have wronged myself," I exclamied ; " but we will 
talk no more of that now. My dear Isabel — my dear 
wife, in the sight of Heaven, say once more that you love 
me, and I will keep the words in my ear and in my heart 
until we meet again ! " 

She laid her arms about my neck, she looked full in my 
face with her brave and lovely eyes, and said, — "I love 
you, — you only, now and forever.^ Then, heart to heart, 
and lip to lip, our beings flowed together, and the man's 
nature in me received the woman's, and thenceforth was 
truly man. 

" Stay ! " she whispered, when I would have left, — " stay, 
one moment ! " She glided from the room, but returned 
almost immediately, with a slip of crumpled paper in her 
hand. 

" Here/' she said, holding it towards me, — " this separated 
us, this brought us together again. It can do no further 
harm or service. Let me burn it, and with it the mem- 
ory — for both of us — of the evening when it was writ- 
ten." 

I looked at it, and read, with indescribable astonishment, 
the words, — "Miss Haworth informs Mr. Godfrey that 
her acquaintance with him has ceased." It was the very 
note I had received that evening in Gramercy Park ! 

" Isabel ! what does this mean ? " I cried, in amaze- 
ment. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 477 

She smiled, lighted one end of the paper at the gas- 
burner, watched it slowly consume, and threw its black, 
shrivelling phantom into the grate. 

" It belongs to the story," she said ; — " you shall hear 
everything to-morrow. Now good-night ! " 



478 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER XXXVni. 

OF WHICH JANE BERRY IS THE HEROINE. 

On my way home, under stars that sang together, my first 
thought was of my faithful Bob. It was already a late 
hour for a man of his habits, but, sleeping or waking, I 
resolved that he should know Jane Berry was found. I 
turned out of the Bowery into Stanton Street, hastened 
onward with winged strides, and reached the door breath- 
less with impatience and joy. 

All were in bed except the journeyman's wife, who was 
at first a little alarmed at my untimely visit. I reassured 
her, declaring that I brought only good news, borrowed a 
candle and went up-stairs to Bob's room. The noise of my 
entrance did not break his healthy, profound sleep. I 
placed the light on the mantel-piece, took my seat on the 
edge of the bed, and looked on the plain, rugged face I 
loved. The unconscious features betrayed no released 
expression of guile or cruelty : there was honesty on the 
brow, candor on the full, unwrinkled eyelid, and goodness 
on the closed lips. Only the trouble of his heart, which he 
would not show by day, now stole to the light and saddened 
all his face. 

He seemed to feel my steady gaze, even in sleep; he 
sighed and tossed his arm upon the coverlet. I seized his 
hand, and held it, crying, " Bob ! Bob ! " 

His eyes were open in an instant. " Eh ? John ! what 's 
the matter ? " he exclaimed, starting up in bed. 

" Nothing wrong, Bob. I would n't rouse you from sleep 
to hear bad news." 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 479 

" John, have you found her ? " 

I felt the pulses in the hand I held leaping strong and 
fast, and answered, " She is found. I have not seen her, 
but I know where she is, — under the best protection, with 
the best help, — far better than mine could be. Bob." 

He drew a long breath of relief, and his fingers uncon- 
sciously tightened around my hand. " You 're a good 
friend, John," he said. " Stand by me a little longer. 
You 're smarter at thinkin' than I am, — I can only think 
with my hands, you know. Tell me what ought I to do ? ." 

" Do you love her still, Bob ?" 

" God knows I do. I tried hard not to, after you told 
me what she 'd done ; but I could n't help pityin' her, and, 
you see, that built up the feelin' on one side as fast as I 
tore it down on t' other. But then, John, there 's the dis- 
grace. My name 's as good to me as the next man's, and 
my wife's name is mine. I must look ahead and see what 
may come — if — if she should care for me (which I 'm not 
sure of), and I should forgive her folly. Could I se'e her 
p'inted at, — could I bear to know things was said, even 
though I should n't hear 'em ? And then, — that would be 
the hardest of all, — could I be the father o' children that 
must be ashamed o' their mother ? I tell you, my head 's 
nigh tired out with tryin' to get the rights o' this matter. 
I 'm not hard, — that you know, — and I could forgive her 
for bein' blindly led into sin that a man does with his eyes 
I open, if there was more men that think as I do. But it 
I is n't the men, after all, John • jt 's the women that tear 
I each other to pieces without mercy])" 

" Not all, Bob ! " I cried ; " it is a woman who protects 
her now, — a woman who knows her story, — and oh. Bob, 
that woman will one day be my wife, if God allows me so 
much happiness ! " 

I now told him, for the first time, of the great fortune 
which had come to me. It seemed hard, indeed, to intrude 
my pure bliss upon the trouble of his heart ; but his nature 



480 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

was too sound for envy, or for any other feeling than the 
heartiest sympathy. Encouraged by the bright congratu- 
lation of his face, I allowed my heart the full use of my 
tongue, and grew so selfish in my happiness that I might 
have talked all night, but for the warning sound of a neigh- 
boring church-clock striking twelve. Poor Bob had thrust 
aside his own interests and perplexities, that he might 
rejoice in the new promise of my life. 

I broke off abruptly, and replied to his first question. 
" Bob," I said, " I believe Jane Berry is still uncorrupted at 
heart. I believe, also, that the conviction of having lost 
you is her greatest sorrow. But do not ask me to advise 
you what to do ; a man's own heart must decide for him, 
not another's. See her first; I shall learn to-morrow 
where she is. I will go to her, and prepare her to meet 
you, if you are willing, — then act as God shall put it in 
your mind to do. Now, I must go, — good-night, you good 

[ old Trojan ! " 

I gave him a slap over the broad shoulders, and, before 
I knew it, I was drawn up and held in iron muscles, until I 
felt a man's heart hammering like a closed fist against my 
breast. Then he released me, and I went down-stairs to 
find the journeyman's wife sitting on the lowest step, fast 
asleep, with her head against the railing, and a tallow dip, 
sputtering in its socket, at her side. 

The next day was only less eventful in my history than 
its predecessor. I saw Isabel, and adhered to my self- 

^ imposed duty. What passed between us belongs to those 
sanctities of the heart which each man and woman holds 
as his or her exclusive possession. She knew my life at 

' last, — nothing weak, or dark, or disgraceful in its past 
was withheld. I felt that I dared not accept the bounty of 
her love, if it rested on a single misconception of my 
nature. Had I known her then as I now know her, I 
should have understood that nothing was risked by the 
confession, — that her pardon already existed in her love. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 481 

But alas ! I had looked on married life, and seen — as I 
still see — concealment and cowardice — honest aiFection 
striving to accommodate itself to imi^erfect confidence! 
Women are stronger than you think them to be, my broth- 
er-men ! and by so much as you trust them with the full 
I knowledge of yourselves, by so much more will they be 
jqualified, not only to comfort, but to guard you ! 

During that interview I learned, also, the wonderful 
chance — the Providence I prefer to call it — which brought 
Isabel and myself together again. Some particulars, lack- 
ing in her narrative, were supplied afterwards by Jane 
Berry, but I give them now complete as they exist in my 
mind. In fact, so vivid and distinct is the story that it 
almost seems to be a part of my own experience. 

Jane Berry's first determination, after my last interview 
with her, was to find other quarters, commensurate with 
her slender means, and as far as possible from Gooseberry 
Alley. One of the needle-women employed by the Bowery 
establishment had found better work and wages at a fash- 
ionable dress-maker's in Twenty-ninth Street, and, with her 
help, Jane succeeded, the next morning, in engaging a 
humble room in Tenth Avenue, with the prospect of occa- 
sional jobs from the same mistress. She was impelled to 
this step by her desire to save Mary Maloney from the 
trouble of malicious tongues, and by a vague instinct which 
counselled her to avoid me. Thus it was that she only 
remained long enough to finish the Christmas-gift, which 
she would leave for me as a token of her gratitude. 

The evening after my visit, however, she made a discov- 
ery. In repairing the buttons of the waistcoat which Mary 
Maloney had retained as a pattern for the new one, she 
found a crvjnpled paper in one of the pockets. It seemed 
to be a stray fragment of no consequence, and she was 
about to throw it away, when her eye caught sight of my 
name in one of the two written lines. She read them, and 
her mind, simple as it was, detected a partial connection 
31 



482 JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 

between them and the reckless words I had addressed to 
her. I had said — she well remembered it — that I loved 
one who was lost to me through no fault of mine ; that one 
was probably this Miss Haworth. It was natural that her 
fancy, brooding always over her own shame, should suggest 
that she might be the innocent cause of my disappointment ; 
my name was disgracefully coupled with hers by the ten- 
ants of Gooseberry Alley, and judging New York by Hack- 
ettstown, it seemed probable to her that all my acquaint- 
ances might be familiar with the report. It was a suspicion 
which occasioned her bitter grief, and she resolved to clear 
my reputation at the expense of her own. 

Thus, her very ignorance of the world helped her to the 
true explanation of Miss Haworth's repulse, while the cir- 
cumstance which actually led to it was so accidental as to 
be beyond my oAvn guessing. To discover and undeceive 
Miss Haworth was the determination which at once took 
possession of her mind. She said to herself, — " What a 
lucky name ! I never heard it before. If she were Miss 
Smith, or Miss Brown, I might as well give up ; but, big as 
New York is,. I am sure I can find Miss Haworth ! " 

Poor girl, I fancy her search was sufficiently long and 
discouraging. She may possibly have tried the " Directory," 
but it could give her no help. Installed in the working- 
room of the dress-maker, she kept her ears open to the 
talk of the fashionable visitors, in the hope of hearing the 
name mentioned. Once it came, as she thought, and with 
much trouble, much anxiety of heart, and many cunning 
little expedients, she discovered the residence of the lady 
who bore it, only to find " Hayward " on the door-plate ! It 
was wonderful that, with her poor, simple, insufficient plan 
of search, she ever accomplished anything, and this is my 
reason for accepting her success as due to the guidance of 
Providence. One species of help, at least, she was shrewd 
enough to perceive and take hold of; she learned the names 
and addresses of other conspicuous modistes in the upper 



JOHN" GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 483 

part of the city, and visited them, one by one, to ascertain 
whether they numbered a Miss Haworth among their pa- 
tronesses. It was truly a woman's device, and being pa- 
tiently followed, brought at last its reward. 

The manner of the discovery was curious, and I have no 
doubt but that I understand how it came about better than 
Jane herself. Her unsophisticated air very probably cre- 
ated suspicion in the minds of some of the sharp women 
of business upon whom she called ; she may have been 
suspected of being the crafty agent, or drummer, of a rival 
establishment, for her question was ungraciously received, 
and she was often keenly questioned in turn. Her pa- 
tience had been severely tried, and the possibility of failure 
was beginning to present itself to her mind, when one day, 
at the close of March, she was attracted by the sign of 
" Madame Boise, from Paris," and timidly entered, to re- 
peat her inquiry. Madame Boise, who spoke English with 
a New-England accent, listened with an air of suspicion, 
asked a question or two, and finally said, — 

" I don't know any Miss Hay^w oiihJ' 

Willie saying this, she turned a large, light parcel up- 
side down, so that the address would be concealed. The 
movement did not escape Jane Berry's eye ; the idea came 
into her head, and would not be banished, that Madame did 
know Miss Haworth, and that the parcel in question was 
meant for her. She left the house and waited patiently at 
the corner of the block until she saw a messenger-girl issue 
from the door. Noting the direction the latter took, she 
slipped rapidly around the block and met her. It was easy 
enough to ascertain from the girl whither her errand led, 
and Jane's suspicion was right. She not only learned Miss 
Haworth's address, but, for greater certainty, accompanied 
the girl to the house. 

The next morning she stole away from her work, filled 
with the sense of the responsibility hanging over her, and 
went to seek an interview with Isabel. If she had stopped 



484 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

to reflect upon what she was about to do, she might have 
hesitated and drawn back from the difficult task ; but the 
singleness and unthinking earnestness of her purpose drove 
her straightforward to its accomplishment. 

The servant who answered the door endeavored to learn 
her business, and seemed disinclined to carry her message, 
but finally left her standing in the hall and summoned Miss 
Haworth. When Jane saw the latter descending the stairs, 
she felt sure she had found the right lady, from the color 
of her eyes ; this was the naive reason she gave. 

Isabel said, " You wished to see me ? " 

" Yes, Miss Haworth, nobody but you. Must I tell you, 
here, what I 've got to say ? Are you sure I won't be over- 
heard?" 

" Come in here, then," Isabel answered, opening the door 
of the drawing-room, "if your message is so imi3ortant. 
But I do not recollect that I have ever seen you before." 

" No, miss, you never saw me, and I don't come on my 
own account, but on his. You '11 pardon me for speaking 
of him to you, but I must try to set you right about him. 
Oh, miss, he 's good and true, — he saved me from ruin, 
and it 's the least I caA do to clear up his character ! " 

" Him ? Who ? " Isabel exclaimed, in great astonish- 
ment. 

« Mr. Godfrey." 

Isabel turned pale with the shock of the unexpected 
name ; but the next instant a resentful, suspicious feeling 
shot through her heart, and she asked, Avith a cold, stern 
face, — 

" Did he send you to me ? " 

" Oh, no, miss ! " Jane cried, in distress, the tears coming 
into her eyes ; " he don't know where I am. I went away 
because the people talked, and the more he helped me the 
more his name was disgraced on account of it. Please 
don't look so angry, miss ; don't go away, until you 've 
heard all ! I '11 tell you everything. Perhaps you 've 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 485 

heard it already, and know what I 've been ; I '11 bear your 
blame, — I '11 bear anything, if you '11 only wait and hear 
the truth ! " 

She dropped on her knees, and clasped her hands im- 
ploringly. Her passionate earnestness bound Isabel to lis- 
ten, but the latter's suspicion was not yet allayed. 

" Who told you to come to me ? " she asked. " How did 
you learn that I once knew Mr. Godfrey ? " 

" Not him, miss, oh, not him ! I found it out without his 
knowledge. When I saw that he was n't his right self, — 
he was desperate, and said that he was parted from one he 
loved, and through no fault of his, and he did n't care what 
would become of him, — and then when I found this," — 
here she produced the note, — "and saw your name, I 
guessed you were the one. And then I made up my mind 
to come to you and clear him from the wicked reports, — 
for indeed, miss, they 're not true ! " 

Jane's imperfect, broken revelations, — the sight of the 
note, — the evident truth of the girl's manner, — strangely 
agitated Isabel's heart. She lifted her from the floor, led 
her to a seat, seated herself near her and said, — 

" I will hear all you have to say. Try and compose 
yourself to speak plainly, for you must bear in mind that I 
know nothing. Tell me first who you are." 

" I am Jane Berry, the girl he saved the night of t£e 
fire." 

" Were you with him one evening in Washington 
Square?" 

" Yes ! " Jane eagerly exclaimed. " That was the time 
I told him all about myself, alid how I came to be where I 
was. And now I must tell you the same, miss. If it does 
n't seem becoming for you to hear, you '11 forgive me when 
you think what it is to me to say it." 

"Tell me." 

Whereupon Jane, with many breaks and outbursts of 
shame and self-accusation, repeated her sad story. Of 



486 JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 

course she withheld so much of my last interview with her 
as might reflect an unfavorable light upon myself. Isabel 
saw in me only the virtuous protector whom she had so 
cruelly misjudged. Jane's narrative was so straightforward 
and circumstantial that it was impossible to doubt its truth. 
Pity for the unfortunate girl, and condemnation of her own 
rash judgment were mingled in her heart with the dawning 
of a sweet, maidenly hope. 

" Jane Berry," she said, when at last all the circumstances 
were clearly explained, " you have done both a good and a 
heroic thing in coming to me. I promise you that I will 
make atonement to Mr. Godfrey for my injustice. You 
must let me be your friend ; you must allow me to assist 
and protect you, in your struggles to redeem yourself I 
will take Mr. Godfrey's place : it belongs to a woman." 

Jane melted into grateful tears. Isabel, feeling th3.t she 
deserved the joy of being the messenger of justice to me, 
wrote a note similar to that which called me back to her, 
and intrusted Jane with its delivery. The message failed, 
because I was at that time dishonorably banished from 
Mrs. De Peyster's boarding-house, and my den in Crosby 
Street was known to no one. 

The fateful interview was over, and Jane, with the 
precious note in her hands, was leaving the drawing-room, 
when the street-door opened, and Mr. Tracy Floyd entered 
the hall. Isabel, following Jane, heard the latter utter a 
wild, startled scream, and saw her turn, with a pale, fright- 
ened face and trembling limbs, and fall upon the floor, 
almost swooning. 

" Damnation ! here 's a devil of a muss ! " exclaimed Mr. 
Floyd, with a petrified look on his vapid face. Perceiving 
Isabel, he ran up-stairs, muttering curses as he went. 

" Oh, miss ! " Jane breathlessly cried, clutching a chair 
and dragging herself to her feet, — " dear, good Miss 
Haworth, don't let that man come into your house ! Tell 
me that you 're not thinking of marrying hun ! He 's the 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. • 487 

one I was talking of ! I 've never mentioned his name yet 
to a living soul, but you must know, for your own sake. 
Perhaps he' 11 deny it, — for he lied to me and he 'd lie to 
you, — but see here ! I call on God to strike me dead this 
minute, if I 've told you a false word about him ! " 

She held up her right hand as she pronounced the awful 
words, but Isabel did not need this solemn invocation. Her 
pure, proud naturfe shrank from the ignominy of her rela- 
tion to that man, and a keener pang of reproach entered 
her heart as she remembered that his insinuations in regard 
to myself — doubly infamous now — had made her mind so 
rapid to condemn me. It was impossible for her, thence- 
forth, to meet her step-brother, — impossible to dwell in 
the same house with him. 

I have reason to believe, now, that Mr. Tracy Floyd was 
one of the band of genteel rowdies whom I encountered in 
Houston Street on the evening of the fire, — that he recog- 
nized me and watched me conducting Jane Berry to Goose- 
berry Alley. Perhaps he may have lain in wait for my visits 
afterwards. Whether he also recognized Jane Berry, it is 
impossible to say. Let us seek to diminish rather than in- 
crease the infamy of his class, and give him the benefit of 
the uncertainty. 

Isabel only remained long enough to find a safe place of 
refuge for Jane Berry. The fears of the latter were so 
excited by her encounter with her betrayer that she begged 
to be allowed to go as far as possible from the crowded 
heart of the city, and gladly embraced the proposition of 
boarding with a humble, honest family in Harlem. When 
this duty was performed, Isabel, impulsive in all things 
which concerned her feelings, left immediately for Boston, 
resolved never to return to her step-father's house while 
his son remained one of its inmates. 

I lost no time in visiting Jane Berry. She, of course, 
had learned nothing, as yet, of what had taken place, and 
her surprise at my sudden appearance was extreme. I 



488 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. ' 

knew, from the eager, delighted expression of her face, 
what thoughts were in her mind, what words would soon 
find their way to her lips, and could not resist the tempta- 
tion to forestall her by a still happier message. 

" Jane," I cried, taking her hands, " it is you who have 
saved me I I have seen Isabel Haworth, and she has 
burned the note you took out of my waistcoat-pocket ! — 
burned it before my eyes, Jane, and she has promised to 
write another, some day, and sign it " Isabel Godfrey ! ' " 

" Oh, is it so, Mr. Godfrey ? Then I can be happy again, 
— I have done some good at last ! " 

" You are good, Jane. We shall be your friends, always. 
Show the same patience in leading an honest life that you 
have shown in helping me, and you may not only redeem 
your fault but outlive its pain." 

"No — no ! " she said, sighing. " I 've heard it said that 
a moment's folly may spoil a lifetime, and it 's true. I 've 
been trying to think for myself, — I never did it before, — 
and though I may n't be able to put everything into w^ords 
as you do, it 's here," (touching her heart,) " and I under- 
stand it." 

I thought of Bob, and felt that I was forced to probe her 
sorest wound, with no certainty of healing it. But for 
Bob's sake it must be done. 

" Jane," I said, gravely, " I have found some one whom 
you know, — who loved, and still loves you. Jane, he is 
my dearest friend, my old schoolmate and playfellow, who 
picked me up the other day, when I was a miserable vaga- 
bond, and set me on my feet. He followed you when you 
left Hackettstown, and has been trying to find you ever 
since. Will you see him ? " 

I saw, by her changing color, and the unconscious, con- 
vulsive movement of her hands, that the first surprise of 
my news was succeeded by a painful conflict of feeling. 

" Does he know ? " — she whispered. 

"He knows all, and it is the sorrow of his life, as of 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 489 

yours. But I am to tell you, from him, that he will not 
force himself upon you. You must decide, for yourself, 
whether or not he shall come." 

" Not now — not now ! " she cried. " If I could look 
through the blinds of a window and see him passing by, I 
think it would be a comfort, — but I ought n't to wish even 
for that. Don't think me hard, Mr. Godfrey, or ungrateful 
for his remembrance of me when I 've no right to it ; but, 
indeed, I dare n't meet him now. Perhaps a time may 
come, — I don't know, — it 's better not to promise any- 
thing. I may work and get myself a good name : people 
may forget, if they 've heard evil reports of me ; but he 
can't forget. Tell him I thank him from my heart, and 
will pray for him on my knees every night. Tell him I 
know now, when it 's too late, how good and true he is, and 
I '11 give back his love for me in the only way I dare, — by 
saving hun from his own generous heart ! " 

I sighed when I saw how the better nature of the woman 
had been developed out of the ruins of her life, and that 
she was really worthy of an honest man's love through the 
struggle which bade her relinquish the hope of ever attain- 
ing it. But I could not attempt to combat her feelings 
without weakening: that sense of guilt which was the basis 
of her awakened conscience, the vital principle of her re- 
turning virtue. It was best, for the present, at least, to 
leave her to herself. 

To my surprise — and also to my relief — Bob acqui- 
esced very quietly in her decision. 

" It 's about what I expected," he said, " and I can't help 
thinkin' better of her for it. Between you and me, John, 
if she 'd ha' been over-anxious to see me, 'twould n't ha' 
been a good sign, and I might ha' drawed back. You know 
what I asked you about, — I 've turned it over ag'in, and 
this time it comes out clearer. I 've got to wait and be 
patient, the Lord knows how long, but His ways won't be 
hurried. I must be satisfied with knowin' she 's in good 



490 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

hands, where I can always hear of her ; and maybe a day '11 
come when the sight o' me will give her less trouble than 
't would now, and when it '11 be easier for me to forgit 
what 's past." 

Bob bent his neck to his fate like a strong ox to the 
yoke. Nothing in his life was changed : he was still the 
steady, sober, industrious foreman, with a chance of becom- 
ing " boss " . in a year or two, respected by his workmeuj, 
trusted by his employer, and loved with a brotherly affec- 
tion by at least one fellow-man. His hands might hew out 
for him a more insignificant path in the world than my head 
achieved for me, but they beat down snares and bridged 
pitfalls which my head could only escape by long and weary 
moral circuits. Our lives were not so disproportionately 
endowed as they seemed to my boyish eyes. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



491 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

IN WHICH I RECEIVE AN UNEXPECTED LETTER FROM 
UNCLE WOOLLEY. 



Did ever such a summer shine upon the earth ? Did 
the shadow-broidery of trees ever deepen into the perfect 
canopy of shade, the bud open into the blossom, May ripen 
to June, with such a sweet, glowing, unbroken transition ? 
Never, set least, had I seen the same diamond sparkle on 
the waves of the harbor, in my morning walks on the Bat- 
tery, or the same mellow glory of sunset over Union Square, 
in returning from interviews which grew dearer and hap- 
pier with every repetition. Even the coming separation 
could not rob the season of its splendor : day after day the 
sun shone, and the breezes blew, and the fresh leaves whis- 
pered to one burden, — joy, joy, joy ! 

And day by day there came to me a truer and holier 
knowledge of Isabel's nature. It seemed, indeed, that I 
had never known a woman before, in the beautiful harmony 
which binds and reconciles her apparent inconsistencies, so 
that courage may dwell side by side with timidity, exaction 
with bounty, purity with knowledge. The moral enigmas 
which had perplexed me found in her their natural solution, 
and she became at once my protecting and forgiving con- 
science. I thought, then, that she surpassed me in every- 
thing, but her truer instinct prefigured my own maturer 
development. \Love can seldom exist without a balance of 
compensation^^* and I have lived to know — and to be 
grateful for the knowledge — that I am her help and stay, 
as she is mine. 



h 



492 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

Fortunately for myself, she was not a woman of genius, 
to overjDOwer my proper ambition, or bend it to her will. 
Such may consort with the gentle, yielding, contented per- 
sons of our sex who supply that repose which is the coveted 
complement of the restless quality. Genius is always her- 
maphroditic, adding a male element to the w^oman and a 
female to the man. In Isabel, the strong sentiment of jus- 
tice and the noble fearlessness with which she obeyed its 
promptings, were also the sterling attributes of her own 
sex, and they but made her womanly softness rarer and 
lovelier. Her admirable cultivation gave her an apparent 
poise of character and ripeness of judgment, whicli* pro- 
tected, not obscured, the fresh, virgin purity of her feelings. 
My sentimental jDhantom of inconstancy vanished when I 
compared my shallow emotion for Amanda with this perfect 
/ passion in which I lived and moved and had my being. 
' Now, for the first time, I knew what it was to love. / 
' I have said that a separation was approaching. Her 
summer was to be spent, as usual, in the country, — the 
greater part of it with Mrs. Deering, at Sachem's Head, — 
which gave me the promise of an occasional brief visit. 
Isabel's mother, in her will, had expressed the desire — it 
was not worded as a command — that she would not marry 
before her twenty-first birthday. Her fortune, until then, 
was in the hands of trustees, of whom Mr. Floyd was one, 
and from her eighteenth year she was allowed the use of 
the annual income. Until now, her step-father had drawn 
it in her name, and she had allowed him to use the greater 
portion of it in his private speculations. Of course his con- 
sent to her marriage was not to be expected, and she de- 
cided not to mention her betrothal until she should come 
into the possession of her property, in the following October. 
"We were discussing these prosaic matters, — not during 
the second interview, be it understood, nor even the tenth, 
— and I had confessed the trouble of mind which her for- 
tune had caused me, when she playfully asked, — 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 493 

" What were the dimensions of this terrible bugbear ? 
Taking your misgivings, John, and the eagerness of certain 
others, one would suppose it to be a question of millions. 
Tell me, candidly, v/hat is presumed to be my market 
value ? " 

'' I don't know, precisely," I answered ; " Penrose said — 
some hundreds of thousands ! " 

" Penrose ! " She paused, and an expression of disap- 
pointment passed over her face. " I w^ould rather he had 
not said it. I did not think him selfish, — in that way. 
There is a mocking spirit in him which repels me, but I de- 
tected noble qualities under it, at the last. I could have 
accepted and honored him as a friend, if he had permitted 
me. But to come back to the important subject, — he was 
wrong, and your trouble might have been diminished by 
two thirds, or three fourths, if you had known it. I am not 
the heiress of romance." 

" So much the better I " I cried. " Neither are you the 
lady of romance, ^ in gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls.' " 

" You must hear the fact, John. My whole fortune is but 
eighty thousand dollars, Vv^hich, in New York, I believe, is 
only considered to be a decent escape from poverty. 
Having never enjoyed the possession of it, I feel that it 
scarcely yet exists for me. I should value a tithe of it far 
more, if it were earned by my own exertions, and this is 
one reason why«I yield so readily to your scornful inde- 
pendence of me. I can enter into your feeling, for it is 
also mine." 

I was really relieved that the disproportion between our 
fortunes was reduced by so much, — though, for that mat- 
ter, eighty thousand seemed as unattainable as eight hun- 
dred thousand. All I could aim at was the system of steady, 
moderately remunerative labor upon which I had entered, 
and the prospect of gradual improvement which it held 
forth. I would, at least, not be an idle pensioner upon Isa- 
bel's means. This resolution g-ave me new vioor, infused 



494 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

life into my performance of mechanical duties, and made 
my services, as I soon discovered, of increased value, — for 
the increased reward followed. 

Our parting was the beginning of a corresjDondence in 
which we still drew closer to each other, in the knowledge 
of reciprocal want, and the expression of the deeper sym- 
pathies born of absence. Our letters were long and fre- 
quent, and then came, to interrupt them, the brief, delicious 
visits, when I stole away for a Sabbath beside the blue wa- 
ter, and Mrs. Deering managed that we should be left alone 
to the extreme limit which Conventionality permitted. 
Thus the bright summer wore away, nor once betrayed the 
promise of its joyous opening. 

It was the 9th of September, I recollect, — for in one 
month, to a day, Isabel would become sole mistress of her 
fortune, — that, on going down to the Wonder office at the 
usual hour, I found a large, awkward-looking letter upon 
my desk. The postmark was Reading, and I thought I 
recognized my uncle's cramped, heavy hand in the configu- 
ration of the words, — " Mr. John Godfrey." I opened it 
with some curiosity to know the occasion of this unexpected 
missive, and read as follows : — 

*' Reading, Berks Co. Penn'a. 
September the 7th, 185—. 

"Respd. Nephew, — I take my Pen in hand to inform 
you that Me and your aunt Peggy are injoying good Health 
and Those Blessings which the Lord Vouchsafes to us. It 
is a long Time since we have heard anything of you, but 
suppose you are still ingaged in the same Occupation as at 
first, and hence direct accordingly, hoping these few Lines 
may come Safely to hand. 

" It has been a fine Summer, for the crops. The grass 
has grown for the Cattle and the herb for the Service of 
man (Psalms 104, 14,) and the Butter market is well sup- 
plied. Prices will be coming down, but I trust you have 
Found that wealth is not increased by price (Ditto 44, 12,) 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 495 

and that Riches profit not in the day of wrath (Proverbs 
11, 4). My business has Expanded, and I have reason to 
be Thankful that I have so far escaped the Snares which 
were laid for me as in a Trap (Job 18). Although I was 
Compassed about, Praise be to the Lord, I have escaped. 

" And this is the Reason why I write to you these few 
lines. I might say to you Judge not that ye be not Judged 
(Matthew 7, 1) if I was sure that your ears are not closed 
in Stubbornness. I might Charge you as being one that 
looketh on outward Appearance (Samuel 16, 7) but I will 
not imitate your Behaviour to a man of your own Kin. 
Sufficient unto the day is the Evil thereof, and as there is 
a time for all things, (Eccl. 3) I hope your time for Ac- 
knowledgement has come. I have waited for my Justifica- 
tion. A long Time, it may seem to you, because you were 
rash to suspect evil, but it has Been longer to me, because 
I had to Bear your suspicion. With great wrestlings have 
I wrestled, and I have Prevailed (Genesis 30, 8). It is 
not good to be Rash, or to speak out of the Stirrings up of 
the sinful Heart. It has been a sore Tribulation to your 
aunt Peggy, though not rightfully to be laid at My door. 

" Their Snares have failed and I am at last Able to re- 
alize — which, since the Road has changed, as I suppose 
you have seen by the Newspapers, is a proper pimishment, 
showing that the Counsels of the wicked is Deceit (Prov- 
erbs 12, 5). And you will See, much as you would not 
Believe it at the time, that Sixhundredfold was below the 
Mark, which was all I Promised, but will Act upright, and 
it shall be even Shares to the Uttermost farthing. I prayed 
to the Lord on my Bended knees that night, that He would 
make my word Good, and let me not be Humbled, but it 
is more than 2 years before He would allow it to come to 
Pass, which I did not Count upon, and it is all the Better 
for waiting. The new Survey was Made more than a year 
ago, but Purchasers did not depend on the second change 
until there was some Cuttings and Bridges. Besides, the 



496 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

others went about Crying it down, for Disappointment and 
Spite, which had an effect on the Market, and so I would 
not Reahze until the thing was sure. You see now that it 
was not Necessary to suspicion me of acting dishonest, and 
to Breed up strife in the household. Where Strife is, 
there is confusion (James 3, 16), and you Magnified your 
own opinions at the time, but Blessed is the man that mak- 
eth the Lord his trust and respecteth not the Proud (Prov- 
erbs 40, 4). 

" I write these few Lines to inform you that Things are 
now fixed, as I said before, and may be Put into -your own 
hands whenever you like. I Remind you that a Recpt. in 
full is necessary for the Justification of my name, though 
not aware of Evil reports, which might have been Expected 
after the manner in which you Went away from my doors. 
Your aunt bids me say that things may be Taken back be- 
tween Relations, and This should not be a matter too hard 
for judgement, between blood and blood (Deuteronomy 
17, 8). Therefore it Rests with yourself on what footing we 
should stand. I will not bear Malice for past injustice, but 
hope that you will acknowledge the lesser Truth, and yet 
be Led to accept the Greater. 

, " If you come soon, Let me know the day beforehand 
that all things may be Prepared. Your aunt says the spare 
bedroom on the second story, if he will Take it, which I 
repeat also for my own part — though the House is sold, 
by reason of Retiring from business, we have not Moved 
away. Our Congregation has been blessed with a great 
Awakening and increase of members, and we expect to 
build a Large Church in the spring. The town is grow- 
ing, houses go up wonderful fast, and Business improves 
all the time. Himpel has prospered, being known as an 
upright God-fearing Man, and the talents I leave in his 
hands. Remaining Silent Pardner, will not be tied up in a 
Napkin. 

" Hoping these few Lines may reach you Safely, and 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 497 

find you injoying good Health, and waiting for an answer 
whether you will come, no more at Present from 
" Your uncle to command, 

"Amos Woolley." 

Two things were evident from this somewhat incoherent 
epistle, — that my uncle had finally " realized " his venture 
in the coal-land speculation, and was ready to pay ray share 
of the investment; and secondly, that he had keenly felt 
the force of my accusations and desired a reconciliation. 
The matter had almost passed out of my mind during the 
eventful two years which had elapsed since my last visit to 
Reading. I had given up my little inheritance as lost, and 
never dreamed that it might yet be restored to me. My 
own experience, in the mean time, disposed me to judge 
more leniently of my uncle's unauthorized use of the money, 

I — especially now that his scheme had succeeded. Success 

'= has a wonderful moral efficacy. I could also imagine how 
his pride of righteousness had been wounded by my words, 
— how they would come back to his mind and pull him 

. down when he would fain have exalted himself, and thus 

I become a perpetual thorn to his conscience. 

Moreover, in looking back to the days of my life in Read- 
ing, I was able to read his character more intelligently. 
I saw that he was sincere, and that his apparent hypocrisy 
was simply the result of narrowness and ignorance. He 
had not sufficient intellect toT^e liberal, nor sufficient moral 
force to be consistent. In most of the acts of his life, he 
doubtless supposed himself to be right, and if, in this one 
instance, he had yielded to a strong temptation, his ultimate 
intention was honest. I was willing to concede that he 
never meant to defraud me, — nay, that he was even un- 
aware of the fraudulent construction which might be put 
upon his act. 

The same day I dispatched the following answer : — 

32 



498 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

" Dear Uncle, — 

" The news contained in your letter of the 7th was quite 
unexpected, but none the less welcome, for your sake as 
well as my own. While I still think that the disposal of 
my little projDerty ought to have been left to myself, I 
cheerfully acquit you of any intention to do me wTong, and 
to show that I not only bear no malice, but am willing to 
retract my hasty insinuations against your character, I will 
accept your proffered hospitality when I visit Reading. 
You may expect me within the next four or five days. 

" Reserving all further information concerning my own 
fortunes until we meet, I subscribe myself, with an affec- 
tionate greeting for Aunt Peggy, your nephew, 

" John Godfrey." 

Mr. Clarendon, whose fatherly interest in my career was 
renewed, and to whom I had confided much of my early 
history, promptly and generously seconded my wishes. I 
remained only long enough to write to Isabel, and to find 
Bob Simmons and tell him that he must spend his next 
Sunday evening elsewhere than in my attic in Hester 
Street. Then I set out for Reading, by way of Philadel- 
phia. 

There was an accident on the road, which so delayed the 
evening train that it was between nine and ten o'clock be- 
fore I arrived. Knowing that my uncle was already in bed, 
I went to the Mansion House and engaged quarters for the 
night. The host conducted me to a narrow room, which 
was only fitted for repose and privacy when the adjoining 
chambers happened to be vacant. One of these communi- 
cated with mine by a door in the partition, which, though 
locked, was so shrunk at the top and bottom that it no 
more kept out sound than a sieve. I was both fatigued 
from the journey and excited by my visit to the old place ; 
so I threw myself at once into bed, and lay there, unable 
to sleep, meditating on the changes of the past two or three 
years. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 499 

Perhaps half an hour had gone by, when footsteps and 
rustHng noises passed my door, a key was turned, and the 
same noises entered the adjoining chamber. 

" Open the window — I won't have my dresses smoked ! " 
exclaimed a voice which sent a nervous shock through my 
body. 

" You did n't used to be so damned particular," was the 
brutal answer. And now I recognized the pair. 

" Well, — never mind about this. I sha'n't wear it again," 
said she, in a bitter, compressed voice. " I 've told you al- 
ready, Mr. Rand, that I Ve always been used to having 
money when I want it, — and I want it now. You 've 
cheated Pa out of enough to keep me in dresses for a life- 
time, and you must make it up to me^ 

" How the devil am I to get it ? " he exclauned, with a 
short, savage laugh. 

" I don't know and I don't care. You and Mulford were 
very free to put everything into Old Woolley's pocket. If 
you will be a fool, don't think that / am going to suffer for 
it!" 

" I wish that soft-headed Godfrey had run away with 
you, before I ever set eyes on your confounded face. You 
damned cat ! Who 'd think, to hear you purring before 
folks, and rubbing your back affectionately against every- 
body's feet, that you could hiss, and spit, and scratch ? "/^ 

" I wish he had ! " she exclaimed. " Godfrey will be 
Old Woolley's heir." 

I was first made aware that I had burst into a loud, 
malicious laugh, by the sudden, alarmed silence, followed 
by low whispers, in the next room. They were themselves 
my avengers. Now, indeed, I saw from what a fate I had 
been mercifully saved, and blessed the Provider ce Avhich 
had dealt the blow. There was no more audible conversa- 
tion between my neighbors that night. They must have 
discovered afterwards, from my name on the hotel register, 
who it was that overheard their amiable expressions. I 



500 JOHN, GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

saw them, next morning, from the gentlemen's end of the 
breakfast-table, as they came down together, serene and 
smiling, she leaning affectionately on his arm. Let them 
go! The world, no doubt, considers them a happy and 
devoted pair. 

Nothing in the old grocery was changed except Bolty, 
who now wore a clean shirt and a pen at his ear, and kept 
his mouth mostly shut. He had two younger assistants in 
the business, but still reserved to himself the service of 
favorite customers. When he saw me entering the door, 
he jumped over the counter with great alacrity. 

" Why, Mr. Godfrey ! " he cried, " this is a surprise. Not 
but what I had a hint of it, when your letter came, — by 
yisterday mornin's mail. Glad to see you in My Establish- 
ment, — one o' my fust customers, — ha, ha ! Did you no- 
tice the sign ? I guess not, — you was n't lookin' up." 

I was obliged, perforce, to follow Bolty out upon the 
pavement, and notice the important fact that " Woolley 
& " was painted out, and " Leopold " painted in ; so that 
now the* sign read, — and, I was sure would continue to 
read, for a great many years to come, — " Leopold Him- 
pel's Grocery Store." 

I determined that no trace of what had passed between 
us should be visible in my manner towards my uncle and 
aunt. I even gave the latter a kiss when we met, which 
brought forth a gush of genuine tears. There was, of 
course, a mutual sense of embarrassment at first, but as 
both parties did their best to overcome it, we were soon 
sitting together and talking as pleasantly and familiarly as 
if our relations had never been disturbed. 

When Aunt Peggy had withdrawn to the kitchen to look 
after he^ preparations for dinner, Uncle Amos gave me a 
long Piid very circumstantial history of his speculation. 
There was a great deal which I could not clearly under- 
stand at the time, but which has since then been elucidated 
by my own experience in matters of business. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 501 

The original scheme had indeed offered a very tempting 
prospect of succfess. Several large tracts of coal-land had 
been purchased for a comparatively insignificant smn, on 
account of their remoteness from lines of transportation. 
The plan of the new railroad which was to give them a 
sudden and immense increase of value, had not yet been 
made public, but the engineering scout employed by the 
capitalists had made his report. He was an acquaintance 
of Mulford, who had formerly been concerned with my 
uncle in some minor transactions. This, however, was to 
be a grand strike, promising a sure fortune to each. 

After the charter for the road had been obtained, and 
the preliminary surveys were made, the aforesaid tracts of 
land might have been sold at triple or quadruple their cost. 
This, however, did not satisfy the speculators, whose appe- 
tites were only whetted by their partial success. Then a 
period of financial disturbance ensued : some of the capi- 
talists interested in the road became embarrassed, and the 
work stopped. The coal-lands fell again in value, and the 
prospective fortunes dwindled in proportion. Up to this 
time the lands had been held as a joint-stock investment, 
my uncle's share being one fifth ; but now there was a 
nominal dissolution of partnership, at the instance of Mul- 
ford, Bratton, and the Rands, each receiving his share of 
the property, to be held thenceforth in his own name, and 
disposed of at his own individual pleasure. My uncle was 
no match for his wily associates. After a series of manoeu- 
vres which I will not undertake to explain, they succeeded 
in foisting upon him a tract lying considerably aside from 
the proposed line of the road, and divided from it (a 
fact of which he was not aware) by a lofty spur of the 
mountains. 

When, he discovered the swindle, he gave himself up for 
lost. The others held, it seemed, the only tracts likely to 
be profitable at some future day, while his, though it might 
be packed with anthracite, was valueless, because inaccessi- 



602 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

ble. He visited the spot, however, toiled over h^s two 
square miles of mountain and forest, and learned one or 
two circumstances which gave him a slight degree of com- 
fort and encouraged him to wait. In eighteen months 
from that time the first projected road was still in abey- 
ance, while the trains of the Delaware and Lackawanna 
were running within a mile of his proj^erty ! There were 
facilities for building, at little cost, a short connecting 
branch : a golden radiance shone over the useless wilder- 
ness, and he had finally "realized," for something more 
than tenfold his invegtment. 

" Now," said Uncle Amos, wiping his fat forehead with a 
bandanna handkerchief, — for the narrative was long, intri- 
cate, and exciting, — " now, you can easy calculate what 
your share amounts to. I 've allowed you interest every 
year, and interest on that again, as if it had been regularly 
put out, and you '11 find that it comes, altogether, to within 
a fraction of twenty thousand dollars. I '11 say square 
twenty thousand, because you can then invest it in a lump : 
there 's less temptation to split and spend. The money 's 
in the Bank, and you can have a check for 't this minute. 
If you 've felt sore and distrustful about it all this while, 
don't forget what I've gone through with, that had all the 
risk and responsibility." 

" We will think no more of what has gone by, uncle," I 
said. " I will take your advice. The money shall be 
invested as it is : I look on it still as the legacy of my father 
and mother, and to diminish it would seem to diminish the 
blessing that comes with it." 

" That 's right, John ! I 'm glad that you have grown to 
be a man, and can see things in the true light. • Ah, if you 
would but see all the Truth ! " 

" I do," said I. " I know what you mean. Uncle. I have 
learned my own weakness and foolishness, and the strength, 
wisdom, and mercy of God." 

He seemed comforted by these words, if not wholly con- 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 503 

vinced that my feet were in the safe path. At dinner his 
prayer was not against " them which walk in darkness," but 
a grateful acknowledgment for undeserved bounties, in 
which I joined with a devout heart. 

I completely won Aunt Peggy by confiding to her my 
betrothal and approaching marriage. The next day, before 
leaving for my return to new York, she brought me a 
parcel wrapped in tissue-paper, saying, — 

" I want to send something to Aer, but I can't find any- 
thing nice except this, which Aunt Christina gave me for 
my weddin'. It 's not the fashion, now, I know, but folks 
says the same things come round every twenty-five or 
thirty years, and so I expect this will turn up again soon. 
I hope she '11 like it." 

She unfolded the paper and produced a tortoise-shell 
comb, the top of which was a true-lover's-knot, in open fili- 
gree, rising nearly six inches above the teeth. I smoth- 
ered my amusement, as best I could, under profuse thanks, 
and went away leaving Aunt Peggy proud of her nephew. 



504 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 



CHAPTER XL. 

CONCLUSION. 

The story of my fortunes draws to an end, — not because 
the years that have since elapsed furnish no important rev- 
elation of life, no riper lessons for brain or heart, but 
chiefly because the records of repose interest us less than 
those of struggle. I have not enjoyed, nor did I anticipate 
the enjoyment of, pure, uninterrupted happiness, but my 
nature rests at last on a firm basis of love and faith, secure 
from any serious aberrations of the soul or the senses. I 
know how to endure trial without impatient protest, — to 
encounter deceit without condemning my race, — to see, 
evermore, the arm of Eternal Justice, reaching through 
time and meting out, in advance, the fitting equivalent for 
every deed. It is the vibration of the string which gives 
forth the sound, and that of my life now hums but a soft, 
domestic monotone, audible to a few ears. 

Yet there are still some explanations to be made, before 
closing this narrative of the seven years which renewed 
my frame, changing gristle into bone, and adding the iron 
of the man to the soft blood of the boy. 

The unexpected restoration of my inheritance, so mar- 
vellously expanded, necessarily changed my plans for the 
future. After returning to New York, I lost no time in 
visiting Isabel, and in consulting with my honored friend, 
Mr. Clarendon. The latter, although assuring me that my 
labors had become of real value to his paper, nevertheless 
advised me to give up my situation, since I should be now 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 505 

in the receipt of a better income, and could devote a year 
or two to rest and study. I knew my own deficiencies, and 
was anxious to supply them for the sake of the new life 
which was opening. A spark of ambition still burned 
among the ashes of my early dreams. While recognizing 
that I had mistaken enthusiasm for power, and sentiment 
for genius, — that my poetic sympathy was not sufficient to 
constitute the genuine poetic faculty, — I had nevertheless 
acquired a facility of expression, a tolerable skill in de- 
scription, and a knowledge of the resources of author-craft, 
wh^ch, in less ambitious ways, might serve me, and enable 
me to serve my fellow-men. The appetite was upon me, 
never to be cured. There is more hope for the man who 
tastes wine than for him who has once tasted type and 
printer's ink. Though but one in fifty feels the airy intox- 
ication of fame, while the others drink themselves into 
stupidity, and then into fatuity, who is deterred by the ex- 
ample ? 

My inheritance did me good service in another way. 
The reason for my withdrawal from the Wonder became 
known, and my friend, the reporter of the Avenger, put it 
into the " Personal " column of that paper, stating that I 
had fallen heir to an immense fortune. The article was 
headed ^'■An Author in Luch,'"' and, of course, went the 
rounds of the other papers. I was congratulated by every- 
body whom I had ever met, and even Messrs. Renwick and 
Blossom, overlooking the ignominy of my flight from Mrs. 
De Peyster's boarding-house, lefl their cards at Mrs. Yery's 
door. I gave the black boy who scoured the knives two 
shillings to carry my cards to them in return, and went up 
to Stanton Street, to pass the evening with Bob Simmons. 

With October Isabel came back to the city. She had al- 
ready written to her step-father and the two associate trus- 
tees, and on the day when she completed her twenty-first 
year the papers representing her property were placed in 
her hands. Mr. Floyd, who had always treated her kindly, 



506 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

and wHo had found his house very lonely since her depart- 
ure, begged her to return, even going to the length of of- 
fering to banish his son. Then Isabel quietly said, — 

" I shall be married to Mr. Godfrey in two months, and 
will not dispossess Mr. Tracy Floyd for so short a time." 

The old man sighed wearily. The announcement, of 
course, was not unexpected. There was a little affection 
somewhere among the stock-jobbing interests which filled 
his heart; he had once imagined that his step-daughter 
might become his daughter-in-law, and keep a warm home 
for his old days. His intercourse with his son consi^ed 
principally of impudent demands for money on one side, 
and angry remonstrances on the other. What could he ex- 
pect ? He gave his life to Wall Street, and that stony di- 
vinity does not say, " Train up your children." On the con- 
, trary, one of her commandments is, " Thou shalt give thy 
sons cigars and thy daughters silks, and let them run, that 
the care of them may not take thy mind from stocks." 

As for Mr. Tracy Floyd, his fate was already decided, 
though we did not know it at the time. For one so selfish 
and shallow-hearted, his only plan of life — to be the idle, 
elegant husband of an heiress — failed most singularly and 
.lamentably. Miss Levi employed the magnetism of her 
powerful Oriental eyes to some purpose, for she trod his 
plans under foot and married him before the summer was 
over. I would give much to know the successive saps and 
mines, the stealthy approaches, and the final onset by which 
she gained possession of the empty citadel ; it would be a 
more intricate romance than my own. She was a Jewess, 
with very little money in her own right, but wealthy con- 
nections. The latter were desirous of rising in society, 
and it was believed that they allowed a moderate annuity 
to Mrs. Floyd, on condition that the match should be used 
to further their plans in this respect, and that the possible 
future children should be educated in their faith. I will 
not vouch for the truth of this report, but the gossips of 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 507 

Gramercy Park that winter declared that the Floyd man- 
sion was frequented by numbers of persons with large 
noses and narrow stripes of forehead. 

We were married in December. Isabel wore the sap- 
phires I loved, but their sparkle could not dim the sweet, 
tremulous lustre of her kindred eyes. It was a very quiet 
and unostentatious wedding, followed by a reception in Mrs. 
Deering's rooms. When evening came, my wife and I left 
our friends, and went together, — not on a tour from hotel 
to hotel, with a succession of flashy " Bridal Chambers " at 
our disposal, — but to the dear little house in Irving Place 
which was now to be our home. Yet we did not go alone. 
Three radiant genii, with linked hands, walked before us, 
— r Peace to kindle the fire on our domestic hearth, and 
Confidence and Love to light the lamps beside our nuptial 
couch. 

Some weeks afterwards, I received, one morning, the fol- 
lowing letter from San Francisco : — 

" Mt Dear John, — I know why you have not written 
to me. In fact I knew, months ago, (through Deering,) 
what was coming, and had conquered whatever soreness 
was left in my heart. Fortunately my will is also strong 
in a refiective sense, and I am, moreover, no child to la- 
ment over an irretrievable loss. I dare say the future will 
make it up to me, in some way, if I wait long enough. At 
any rate, you won't object, my dear old fellow, to have me 
say — not that I wish you happiness, for you have it, but — 
that you deserve your double fortune. The other item I 
picked up from a newspaper ; you might have written me 
that. 

" With this steamer there will come a trifle, which I hope 
may be accepted in token of forgetfulness and forgiveness, 

— though it is Fate, not myself, that should be forgiven. 
There may also come a time — nay, I swear it shall come, 

— when I may sit by your fireside and warm my bald 



508 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 

head, and nurse my gouty leg, and drink my glass of Port. 
Pray that it may be sooner for the sake of your (and hers, 
now) "Affectionate cousin, 

"Alexander Penrose." 

The " trifle " was a superb India shawl, and I am glad 
that Isabel likes to wear it. We have not yet seen our 
cousin, for we were absent from New York when he came 
to the Atlantic side, two years afterwards ; but we believe 
in the day when he shall be an honored and beloved guest 
under our roof. Till then, one side-rill of bliss is wanting 
to the full stream of our lives. 

Within a year after our marriage, Mr. Floyd met the 
usual fate of men of his class. Paralysis and softening of 
the brain took him away from the hard pavements and the 
granite steps he had trodden so long. The mind, absent 
from his vacant eyes, no doubt still flitted about on 'Change, 
holding ghostly scrip and restlessly seeking phantom quo- 
tations. It was not with us ; but we took his body and 
cared for it a little while, until the mechanical life ceased. 
Then reverence forbade us to wonder what occupation the 
soul could find in the world beyond stock. 

When spring came, I took Isabel to the Cross-Keys, and 
gave her the first bud from the little rose-tree on my moth- 
er's grave. Kindly hands had kept away the weeds, and 
the letters on the head-stone were no less carefully cleaned 
from moss and rust than those which contained my boyish 
promise of immortality, — the epitaph on Becky Jane Mies. 
Our visit was a white day in the good Neighbor's life. 
She tried to call me " Mr. Godfrey," but the familiar 
" Johnny " would come into her mouth, confusing her and 
bringing the unwonted color into her good old face, until 
she hit upon the satisfactory expedient of addressing me as 
" Sir." I don't believe any garment since her wedding- 
dress gave her as much pleasure as the black silk we left 
behind us. 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 509 

Thence we went to Reading, where Isabel speedily won 
the hearts of Uncle and Aunt WooUey, and so homeward 
by way of Upper Samaria. Our visit was a great surprise 
to Dan Yule, who had not heard a word about me since I 
burned " Leonora's Dream " under the willows. Mother 
Yule was dead, but Dan and his " Lavina " kept the plain, 
cheerful spirit of the old home intact, and it was a happy 
day we passed under their roof. A messenger was sent to 
Susan, who came over the hills with Ben and their lusty 
baby to tea, and the lively gossip around the fire in the 
great kitchen chimney-place scarcely came to an end. I 
was glad to hear that Verbena Cuff was married. Then 
first I dared tell the story of the lime-kiln. 

And now, having carefully disposed of so many of the 
personages of my history, after the manner of an English 
novelist of the last century, my readers may demand that I 
should be equally considerate of the remainder. But the 
Rands and the Brattons have passed out of the circle of 
my knowledge. The same may be said of the Mortimers 
and Miss Tatting. Mears has married a w^ealthy widow, 
and given up art for artistic literature. (I betray no secret 
when I state that he is the well-known " Anti-Ruskin," 
whose papers appear in " The Beaten Path.") Brandagee, 
has, perhaps, undergone the greatest transformation of all ; 
and yet, now that I know mankind better, I can see that 
it is in reality no transformation, but a logical development 
of his nature. Having scraped together a little capital, — 
probably obtained by following Fiorentino's method, — he 
ventured into Wall Street one day, was lucky, followed 
his luck, rapidly became a shrewd and daring operator, 
and is supposed to be in prosperous if not brilliant circum- 
stances. He hves at the Brevoort House, and spends his 
money liberally — upon himself. He is never known to 
lend to a needy Bohemian. " Gold," he now says, " is the 
only positive substance." I frequently meet him, and as 
the remembrance of my vagabond association with him has 



510 JOHN GODFEEY'S FORTUNES. 

left no very deep sting, we exchange salutations and re- 
marks, — but there is no intimacy between us, and there 
never will be. 

" But what of Bob Simmons ? And of Jane Berry ? " 
the curious reader may ask. Shall I again lift the veil 
which I have dropped upon two unfortunate hearts ? — 
Rather let it hang, that each one may work out in his own 
way the problem I have indicated. Whether the folly of 
a day is to be the misery of a life, or, on the other hand, 
a too easy rehabilitation of woman's priceless purity shall 
be allowed to lessen the honor of the sex, are the questions 
which my poor friends were called upon to solve. Which- 
ever side we may take, let us not deny hmnan pity to the 
struggle through which they must pass, before peace, in 
either form, can rest upon their lives. 

If there is any lesson in my story, I think it is not neces- 
sary that I should distinctly enunciate it. In turning over 
these pages, wherein a portion of my life is faithfully re- 
corded, I see, not only that I am no model hero, but that 
my narrative is no model romance. The tragic element, 
in externals, at least, is lacking, — but then mine has been 
no exceptional life. It only runs, with different undula- 
tions, between the limits in which many other lives are in- 
closed. Why, then, should I write it ? Because the honest 
confession of a young man's fluctuating faith, his vanity 
and impatience, his struggle with temptations of the intel- 
lect and the senses, and the workings of that Providence 
which humbles, sobers, and instructs him, can never be 
without interest and profit to his fellow-men. If another 
reason is wanted I will give it, and with it a final, fleeting 
tableau of my present life. 

Time, nearly a year ago. Scene, the little lawn in front 
of our cottage on Staten Island. I am sitting on the ve- 
randa, in an arm-chair of Indian-cane, with Jean Paul's 
" Titan " — a very literary nebula, by the way, the fluid 
essence of a hundred stars — in my hand. Isabel, fuller 



JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 511 

and rounder in her form, but with the same fresh, clear 
beauty in her features, (how often I think of Penrose's ex- 
clamation, — " She is my Eos — ray Aurora ! ") sits near 
me, but her work rests on her lap, and her eyes follow the 
gambols of (Charles Swansford Godfrey,' whose locks of 
golden auburn shine out from the rift m a clump of box, 
where he is seeking to hide from his Jittle sister Barbara., 
It is a charming picture, but I am too restless to enjoy it 
as a husband and father ought. 

I throw down "Titan" and pace up and down the ve- 
randa with rapid strides. Isabel looks towards me, and a 
shade (think not that another eye than mine would notice 
it !) passes over her face. I stop before her chair. 

" Bell," I say, " what shall I do ? I have tried hard to 
give up my literary ambition, and enjoy this lazj, happy 
life of ours, but the taint sticks in my blood. I am restless 
because my mind is unemployed : these occasional sketches 
and stories don't fill the void. I want a task which shall 
require a volume. Can't you give me a subject ? " 

"I have been feeling the same thing all along, John," 
says she, " and only waited for you to speak of it. Don't 
aim too high in your first essay : take that which is nearest 
and most familiar. Why not tell the story of your own 
life?" ' -;.--*- 

" I will ! " I exclaim, giving her a kiss as a reward for 
this easy solution of the difficulty. 

And I have done it. 



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